Caged Animals
by BlondeQ
Summary: Post-S4E09. With Shaw hidden in the subway station, Root finds herself in an interesting position.
1. Chapter 1

This work explores what could happen if Shaw has to stay in the subway station, and Root were to find herself becoming more and more involved. Spoilers up through the episode titled The Devil You Know.

Chapter 1 is T-rated, but it's going to escalate to at least an M by Chapter 3.

(Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own)

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><p>Root waited two days after she sank the syringe into Shaw's neck before going back to the subway station.<p>

She knew that Shaw was going to be angry with her, and she hoped that giving her a little time to cool off might help. On the other hand, she knew it was possible (probable, really) that Shaw would spend that time getting herself more and more pissed.

Root had promised herself that she would stay away for a full forty eight hours. Forty seven hours and fifty six minutes after she left Shaw on the cot with Harold looking over her, Root was back at the entrance to the subway station. She thought about slipping inside now, but she liked the idea of the exact forty eight hours, so Root passed the entrance by, head down, hood up.

Her mouth twitched a tiny bit into a smile when she remembered the way that the needle, clutched in her tight fist, pierced through Shaw's skin so smoothly. The bullseye that was the soft area just behind the tendons in Shaw's neck meant that when Shaw flinched, it only drove the needle deeper. And when Shaw's hand gripped Root's, her tight fist covering tight fist, Root knew that Shaw was too late, the plunger had already been pressed and Shaw was going to drop momentarily. No matter how good of an assassin you were, when you were hit with that much tranquilizer, you were going down. Root had let Shaw jerk her hand away.

Then Shaw turned with that scalding glare, her lips pulling back from her teeth as she snarled and that iron hand was immediately at Root's throat, fingers closing around Root's windpipe… Root couldn't deny that the jolt of electricity that shot through her body was a pleasurable one. Her lips had parted and yes, she was smiling just the tiniest amount, and yes, she relished running her hand over Shaw's forearm to her wrist, gently pressing that iron grip closer to her.

There was no smile on Shaw's face. When she growled "I will _end_ you" there was only fury. And looking back on it, that made Root's stomach tighten anxiously. But Root also knew that it had been her only choice. She couldn't let Shaw enter the fray- it was too risky. Shaw could have exposed all of them. Or gotten herself hurt. At any rate, Root didn't hesitate to squeeze in one last line of innuendo before Shaw's eyes started to un-focus and roll back into her head. Root had a tight enough grip on the shorter woman that she simply lowered them both to the ground, crouching and pulling Shaw towards herself when her head lolled back.

It wasn't until Root had started to gather Shaw into her arms that she noticed the gun that was still loosely held in her unconscious hand. So sure, Shaw was pissed and had threatened Root's life, but even with the training and the instincts that told her to always be ready to shoot, Shaw had no so much as pointed the gun in Root's direction. And that counted for something. Root hoped.

John was still busy with Elias when Harold pulled up to the curb outside the chain link fence and called to ask Root why she'd asked him to come. Root opened the gate in the fence, Shaw slung over her shoulder in a fireman carry. The look on Harold's face, his eyebrows three fourths of the way up his forehead, was priceless. He looked like he was going to be sick.

"Don't worry, Harold, I just needed to keep Shaw from getting herself into trouble," Root told him, smiling as she tried to keep her breathing steady through the exertion of carrying Shaw. Harold half-heartedly tried to help, but realized quickly that the best he could do was open the car door's back seat for Root to lay Shaw across it. Root thought she probably could have found a car herself, but she didn't like the idea of leaving Shaw alone, even for the amount of time it would take to break into a car and re-enter the building.

When they got back to the subway station Root had hoisted Shaw up again onto her shoulder, wincing because the gunshot wounds in her other shoulder were still a little tender sometimes. She'd almost dropped Shaw, but one hand firmly planted on Shaw's rear end kept her steady. Root immediately thought of how Shaw would have reacted had she seen how firmly Root had a hold of her.

Bear had been up and whining as soon as he saw Shaw and Root enter the room, and she figured that was her cue to leave. She'd laid Shaw down, looked over at Harold, his pursed lips and buggy eyes, and gave him a sly smile, her head tilting to one side.

"Take care of her for me?" Root asked.

"I think I'd better, Miss Groves. She's not going to want to see you any time soon. If I were you, I'd give her a few days," Harold said. Root's eyebrows and mouth twitched, a minute expression of concern blinking onto her face and then disappearing. Finch's owl eyes did not miss this. "She'll be here. And maybe by then she'll be glad for the distraction from her, shall we say, confinement."

Root had listened to the precision of Finch's words, the clipped consonants and perfectly shaped vowels, and knew he was right. So yes, it was two days later now, which qualified as 'a few' in Root's book, and she was checking the time again. As soon as her mental timer hit forty eight hours from the moment she had looked away from Shaw's limp body, Root hurried down the steps into the subway station, brushing the hood back from her face as she went.

As Root stepped off the final stair, she heard quiet grunting. She curiously walked along beside the subway car, glancing in and seeing no one, until she came to the end of the platform and spotted Shaw doing push-ups. Root smirked as she approached Shaw from behind. Bear came trotting up to Root, ears up on high alert, before she could say anything. She had to admit she was disappointed- she liked to surprise Shaw.

"I'm glad to see you're staying fit for me," Root said. Shaw grunted a few more times, on the upward motion of each push-up, then finally stopped, letting her body relax from the rigid plank position. She jumped up and swiped one arm over her forehead, damp with sweat, and stepped towards Root, eyes dark with anger. Root's smirk deepened as Shaw continued on her trajectory until they were so close they were almost touching. Shaw looked just as furious as she had in those moments before she collapsed, the muscle above her lip on one side pulling into a little snarl. It almost kept Root from teasing her more. Almost.

"Are you going to end me now?" Root asked coyly, making her eyes as big and dark as she could. Shaw glared up into Root's eyes, still breathing heavily, then pushed past her, intentionally checking Root's shoulder- the one that had been shot recently. It didn't hurt all that much anymore, but carrying Shaw the other day hadn't helped at all. Root rolled it gently as Shaw started running to the other end of the platform. Just as Root wondered if she should chase after Shaw and stop her from going up to the street, she noticed that Shaw wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. Root doubted the shorter woman would go sprinting up on the streets of New York with her feet completely bare. At the end of the platform, Shaw stopped, reached down with one hand to tap the ground, then turned and immediately ran, fast, back towards Root.

Root stepped aside, out of Shaw's path.

"I did it to keep you safe," Root said as Shaw raced past her. Shaw slows to a stop and then turns back to face Root with venom in her eyes.

"I didn't _ask_ you to keep me safe," Shaw growled.

"That's the point," Root said, looking down at Shaw and wishing she didn't sound quite so worried. "You don't _have_ to ask. When people care about you, they do these things without needing to be _told_."

Shaw turned back away, her hands on her hips, her breathing still a little fast. The edges of the sweat pattern on Shaw's black tank top caught Root's eye, and she wondered how long Shaw had been running around. The subway station was very quiet for a minute while Shaw slowly walked across the concrete.

"Do you know how to build things?" Shaw asked the question without turning around. Root's eyebrows raised.

"I can do almost anything with Her help," Root replied, returning to her usual smooth delivery. The microscopic shake of Shaw's head was still enough to cue Root to the fact that Shaw was unimpressed as she continued to slowly walk away. "What do you want to build?"

"I told Finch that I couldn't live here without a place to shower," Shaw said, and her frustration was clear, "So he brought all this stuff to put one in the bathroom."

Shaw had reached a door in the wall and pushed it open. Root followed her and looked at the pile of equipment and then up at Shaw, who had stepped over the pipes and fittings and was now standing on the other side of the pile.

"Is there a-" Root started, but Shaw cut her off.

"Drain? Yeah. But there's not a pipe in the wall to connect it to. He wanted me to try to connect it to the sink."

Root tilted her head to the side skeptically, then crouched to sort through the pipes. Shaw sat down on the toilet lid to watch. Even when Root fumbled a little to pick up certain pieces, Shaw made no move to assist her.

And then after a while, Shaw had left Root alone in the bathroom. Root could tell that Shaw was getting impatient, but it wasn't as simple as connecting two pipes and being done. There was a tankless water heater to figure out, and the finagling of the different pieces to split the sink's water would never work as well as Root would have liked. She worked for a long while in silence, listening to the soft slap of bare footsteps back and forth on the concrete platform.

Root wished she'd known she would be doing this sort of work- luckily she'd worn a low-cut t-shirt under her black leather jacket, but the heeled boots and tight black jeans weren't exactly practical for this sort of labor.

"You're making progress," Shaw's voice said. The hair on the back of Root's neck stood on end at the surprise of Shaw being right behind her, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. Root looked over her shoulder, pointedly not giving Shaw the satisfaction of knowing she'd managed to approach unnoticed. It was only because she wasn't wearing shoes, Root assured herself.

"It might go faster if I had some help," Root told her, looking up at her from under her lashes.

Shaw's lips twitched with the tiniest hint of a smile before they pursed in irritation.

"I might help if I didn't feel like I was building my own prison," Shaw said. Root turned back to the task at hand, not acknowledging Shaw's reply because she was right, really.

The installation of the shower meant that Shaw didn't really have an excuse to leave. They could bring her food, clothes, even build a gym if they really wanted to, but aside from a half-assed sponge bath from the sink, there wasn't a way for Shaw to get clean. At least being able to shower would bring a sort of normalcy.

Being able to wash off the sweat and blood and the smell of explosives from her body helped Root feel human. The iproduction/i of those three things kept Root feeling ialive/i, but that wasn't the same thing. Root thought about Shaw's bare feet racing back and forth across the subway platform and knew the shorter woman probably felt the same way. With a glance over her shoulder, she saw that Shaw's feet were still bare.

"Your feet are going to get cold," Root told her.

"Yeah, well I'm not going to run suicides in my boots. I'm not exactly flush with cash thanks to my delightful job at the makeup counter, and they aren't cheap. Plus I'd probably break an ankle or something," Shaw replied, her eyes staring fixedly at the tiles on the wall, not even looking Root in the eye. Root picked up a wrench, testing the weight in one hand as she thought about what needed to be connected next.


	2. Chapter 2

Root was surprised when, the next day, she was already heading back to the subway station.

The surprise was because the Machine had been giving her more instructions lately, and a part of her had thought that maybe she was being kept busy so she wouldn't get distracted by Shaw. It wasn't completely unreasonable- what sort of God wanted a prophet who was busy flirting?

But today the Machine had made a point of directing Root to Shaw's now-vacant apartment. At first, Root thought it was a coincidence that she was heading to the same street address that she'd long-since figured out belonged to Shaw's cover identity. But she quickly saw that she was wrong in assuming it was coincidence. Root felt a little stupid for having thought it could be. When was it _ever_ coincidence with Her?

It had only taken Root a few minutes to get inside Shaw's building, and a couple more to find the apartment and break in. She stood in the open doorway for a beat, waiting for further instructions.

She gave the apartment a thorough sweep for weapons- in case someone got suspicious that Shaw hadn't been around or paid her rent, it was better to not have guns and knives stashed all over. That made sense.

Then Root was guided into the bedroom and under the bed to find an empty duffle bag. The last instruction made Root smile. She was there to gather clothes for Shaw.

She opened Shaw's dresser drawers and closet door and was surprised that everything was very neat. Root ran her hands over the clothes on the hangers in Shaw's closet, examining different items as she came to them.

When the Machine reminded her that she needed to hurry, Root felt like she was being scolded.

She didn't love it.

But she _did_ love the excuse to pick exactly which items of clothing Shaw would be wearing while she was confined to the subway station. She pulled a couple pairs of pants, a few shirts, a leather jacket, a hooded sweatshirt, one of the revealing little black dresses Shaw had been wearing lately, running shoes, exercise clothes, socks… then she came to the most fun part.

Underwear.

Sports bras? Sure. Necessary if Shaw was going to keep acting like a mountain lion at the zoo.

As Root could have predicted, Shaw's underwear drawer was mostly black. Some were surprisingly lacy and feminine items, all of which Root put into the duffle bag with a smirk on her face because she knew Shaw would immediately see that Root had done it intentionally. But even sexier were the black boy-short cut underwear, the smooth, simple black bras that Root could so easily picture Shaw wearing around her apartment when she was alone. There would probably be a glass beer bottle in one hand, a pistol in the other, resting against Shaw's smooth bare thigh while she lounged on the couch to watch television.

Root licked the back of her teeth as she thought of that mental image and shoved those items into the bag as well. Then she was off, back towards the subway station. She idly thought to herself when she was about a block away that she needed to give the heavy lifting a rest or her shoulder would never heal.

Her phone started to ring in her pocket, and Root answered quickly, without looking at who had called. It wasn't like she needed to; the Machine had already whispered in her ear.

"Hello, Harold," Root said into the receiver.

"Hello Ms. Groves. I have a favor to ask."

"Anything for a friend," she replied, letting the words sound much more sarcastic than necessary.

"I believe that Ms. Shaw is getting _restless_," Finch let the word 'restless' hold weight and sit for a second before continuing, "so if you could perhaps bring some of her things to her-"

"Somebody else already sent me to do the same thing," Root interrupted. She could tell Finch was surprised.

"The Machine?" He asked.

"She's doing Her best to keep us all safe. And right now, that means keeping Shaw undercover," Root replied to Finch as she headed down the steps into their secret lair. Root hung up the phone as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, approaching the subway car where Finch was sitting at the computer. Finch turned at the sound of her shoes clicking on the floor and looked even more surprised than he'd sounded on the phone.

"That was fast," he said. Root just smiled and turned to see Reese and Shaw staring one another down.


	3. Chapter 3

"She's doing Her best to keep us all safe. And right now, that means keeping Shaw undercover," Root replied to Finch as she headed down the steps into their secret lair. Root hung up the phone as she rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, approaching the subway car where Finch was sitting at the computer. Finch turned at the sound of her shoes clicking on the floor and looked even more surprised than he'd sounded on the phone.

"That was fast," he said. Root just smiled and turned to see Reese and Shaw staring one another down.

It was obvious that the Machine had hurried Root because the threat of Shaw leaving was imminent. Reese looked like he was ready to grab Shaw if she tried to edge her way past him towards the stairs. Shaw's eyes flickered over to Root and the look she received was so venomous that even from a few yards away, Root's stomach tightened, an unconscious response because Shaw was dangerous.

"She wants to _help_," Finch said, "and I keep telling her that she can't."

"I have to leave- Lionel isn't going to be able to cover for me all day," Reese said over his shoulder, his expression pained.

"And there's a new number that I need to check up on," Finch continued, sharing Reese's irritation. Root let the duffle bag drop to the floor.

"We'll have a little girl time then," Root said, smiling over at Shaw as suggestively as she could manage. "We can play dress up if you want."

Shaw turned from Reese when she saw how outnumbered she was and started to pace away, putting her hands on her head in frustration. Finch watched Shaw for a few seconds, then looked back to Reese. Without another word, Harold started to limp towards the stairwell. Reese followed, but stopped beside Root, turning his head just enough to speak to her quietly.

"She's going to try to run. You can't let her," he said, his voice like gravel. Root smirked up at him.

"Have a good day at work, Detective."

With that, John and Harold both headed up the stairs. Shaw was facing the wall of the subway station with her arms still above her head, her hands in her hair. The form-fitting tank top was riding up around Shaw's waist, and Root gave the shorter woman's exposed lower back an appraising look as Bear trotted to Shaw's side, circling her anxiously.

"Don't you want to see what I brought you?" Root asked, testing the water. Shaw turned and looked at Root for a second before stalking back across the room. Root watched the angry approach with a little smile on her face. Root nodded her head at the duffle bag on the floor and Shaw bent to pick it up.

"What are you looking at?" Shaw growled up at Root. Then she hoisted the bag up and turned away without another word, walking towards the cot. Root followed leisurely a few feet behind, and when Shaw put the bag on the mattress, Root couldn't see it but heard the zipper pull.

"You broke into my apartment," Shaw said, "_Again_."

"I thought you might like some creature comforts," Root replied.

"Did you touch my guns?" Shaw asked, rounding on Root. Root just smiled, and Shaw's eyebrows shot up in annoyance. "Did you take them?"

"I couldn't leave them for your landlord to find in case someone noticed you were missing," Root told her. Shaw's eyes narrowed, but she left that alone, turning back to the bag. She started to pull out clothes and saw that there was a layer of lacy underwear on top.

"_This_ is supposed to make me feel better?" Shaw asked, and even before she turned around, Root could tell that her jaw was clenched tight.

"I picked my favorites," Root said flirtatiously, looking pointedly at the lacy bra in Shaw's hand.

Shaw's hand clenched tighter on the bra, then she shoved everything back into the bag. Root looked up at the ceiling, her mouth still curling into a smirk.

"I've already seen it all, there's no reason to hide it," Root said.

Shaw didn't acknowledge this comment, zipping the bag up roughly and leaving it on the bed before she turned, standing with her hands clenched into fists at her sides, eyeing the stairs.

"You're not leaving," Root told her apologetically. There was no reply; the shorter woman simply started to stalk back and forth along the platform. Root leaned against the wall, watching her.

After a bit, Root's phone started to ring.

"I just wanted to confirm that Ms. Shaw is still there," Harold said on the other end of the line.

"She sure is, Harry."

"Good. Mr. Reese is going to meet me here at the new number's apartment. It's not proving to be particularly complicated so we should be back in a few hours at most. Can you stay there with her until then?"

"My pleasure," Root said, ending the call. "They're both fine and safe. You don't need to worry about them."

"I'm not worried about them," Shaw said as she turned and started to pace back towards Root. Root pushed herself from her position against the wall and walked towards Shaw, meeting her in the middle of the platform.

"It's ok to be worried," Root said. "That's what's got you so desperate to get out of here, right?"

"I want to leave because I want to be in my own place. With a drink, and my guns. I don't want to be here, being watched all the time," Shaw said. Root looked sympathetically down at the shorter woman.

"If you weren't trying to run off, we wouldn't be babysitting you," Root replied. Shaw's eyes narrowed in frustration, and then her face shifted. It was clear in that moment that Root was about to get a piece of the truth that Shaw felt embarrassed to reveal. Root's eyebrows raised, wide dark eyes meeting wide dark eyes.

"I'm bored," Shaw said through clenched teeth, flinching a little as the words left her mouth. She clearly felt bad that this was why she was being such a pain- she knew this wasn't a good reason to cause trouble. Root's eyes strayed to Shaw's mouth for a second, the pursed lips.

"If you wanted to be entertained, all you had to do was ask," Root said, smirking coyly as she stepped towards Shaw, putting a hand on each of the shorter woman's upper arms.

There was a flare of anger in Shaw's expression, and for a split second Root thought she may have miscalculated.

She hadn't.

Shaw grabbed a handful of Root's jacket in both of her fists and pulled the taller woman against herself, kissing her hard. Root's lips were crushed against her teeth, and her hands tightened on Shaw's firm biceps. Just as Root was about to open her mouth to deepen the kiss, Shaw pulled away.

To Root's surprise, under all of the layers of Shaw's anger there was a look like she was asking for permission. That was not the attitude Root had expected from someone who seemed keen on shooting first and asking questions later.

One of Root's hands shifted up to the nape of Shaw's neck, giving her a sly smile as she gently pressed against the base of Shaw's skull, her fingers entwined in Shaw's hair, urging Shaw to move their lips together again. That was all of the permission Shaw needed. Her hands were still grabbing tightly to Root's jacket, and she pulled their bodies together again, this time letting the kiss last.

It was another hard kiss, their teeth clashing once, Root's tongue barely entering Shaw's mouth before the shorter woman reacted like they were fighting.

Root's fingers curled in Shaw's hair, pulling when Shaw's teeth bit Root's lower lip, hard enough to make Root inhale harshly through her nose and jerk away in pain. Root gently licked at her lip, checking for blood. There wasn't any.

Shaw didn't look the least bit remorseful as she watched Root's mouth. Her eyes focused hard on the pink of Root's tongue against the dark red of her inflamed lip. She wasn't sorry, but she _was_ waiting until Root was done checking her throbbing lip.

Her eyes looked dark, darker than usual if that were possible. Root felt her stomach tighten as she looked at the shorter woman, and the thought flicked through her mind that this might be a ploy to distract Root long enough to run away. The Machine _had_ sent her here to keep Shaw stationary.

Root's gaze turned commanding at the idea. If that were the case, she would play Shaw's game, but she would not let Shaw win.

It was Root that connected with Shaw's lips this time, her hand still in Shaw's hair. But Shaw was not willing to let Root take control of the situation. She was angry, more than angry, and she wanted things done _her_ way.

There was a tugging on Root's jacket again, and she could tell that Shaw was blindly tearing at the buttons. Root let go of Shaw and tried to brush her hands away to undo the coat herself. She liked that coat and didn't want it destroyed by Shaw's frenetic hands.

But Shaw hit Root's hands away, grabbing onto one of Root's wrists and continuing to unbutton with the other. Root felt herself being pushed backwards as the coat gave way. Shaw released Root's wrist, her mouth still on Root's, the coat pushed down Root's arms until they were trapped in the sleeves, Shaw's hands holding the coat tight around Root's waist, almost like a straight jacket.

Root ducked back from Shaw, looking into her eyes and seeing the dark fury and something else. Desperation, maybe? Or longing? The slight look of confusion Root responded with must have cued Shaw to the fact that Root was trying to figure out what was going on in her head, because Root then watched Shaw try to rearrange her expression into just anger again. It didn't really work, and that made Root smile a little. Shaw shoved angrily against Root again, making her walk backwards. Root tried to move her arms, testing Shaw's resolve to see how much Root would need to push back to gain control if she needed to.

Root was perplexed when Shaw's face twitched into a smile and she tugged Root's arms tighter in the sleeves of the jacket, looking up at her sternly. Shaw pushed her again, harder this time, and Root had to quickly put a foot back to keep from falling. Instead of catching herself like she'd expected to, Root's leg hit something low, and she lost her balance. Her arms, still stuck in the sleeves, tried to jerk out behind her, but there was nothing she could do.

When she hit the mattress, her legs bent over the duffle bag, Root exhaled shakily. The wind had been knocked out of her, and the fall had been alarming. Shaw shoved the duffle out from underneath Root and let it drop to the ground beside the low cot.

Before Shaw was on her again, Root struggled out of her coat and dropped that on the floor as well.

Shaw looked predatory, shoulders tight as she stood over Root, lying prone on the bed. When Root started to sit up, Shaw reached down and put a firm hand on her sternum, fingers pressing into the base of Root's throat. Then she slung one leg over Root's hips and sat on the taller woman's pelvis.

She had located herself with intention. When Root tried to lift her legs from the bed, Shaw hooked her feet on top of Root's thighs, keeping them flat against the bed and slightly spread. Root let herself be pushed into the mattress, flat on her back. She felt another pang of fear as she realized how vulnerable she was. The smirk on Shaw's face said she knew it too.

The hand on Root's sternum slid upwards, the fingers that had been pressed into her collar bone moving up, digging into her throat painfully. Shaw leaned over Root so their faces were almost touching.

"I _told_ you," Shaw growled, pausing when she felt Root's throat bob as she tried to swallow her fear. Shaw's eyes flicked down to her hand on Root's throat, giving her fingers a tentative squeeze, then back to Root's eyes. Root's stomach flipped when their eyes met, Shaw's black as night. "I will _end_ you."


	4. Chapter 4

WARNING! This chapter is explicit! But don't worry- if that's not your thing, you can wait until tomorrow when I post the next chapter and you won't have missed anything in terms of the over-arching story. You'll still be able to intuit character development without reading this.

Leave a comment if that's your thing. Feedback is always appreciated!

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><p>"I <em>told<em> you," Shaw growled, pausing when she felt Root's throat bob as she tried to swallow her fear. Shaw's eyes flicked down to her hand on Root's throat, giving her fingers a tentative squeeze, then back to Root's eyes. Root's stomach flipped when their eyes met, Shaw's black as night. "I will _end_ you."

For a moment, Root felt panic, her fight or flight response telling her to get the fuck out from under this murderous woman. But She was quiet in Root's ear, which she hoped meant that Shaw wouldn't actually kill her. Root was surprised to feel her hands shaking when she reached up to grab Shaw's hips.

And then Shaw's mouth connected with Root's again, her hand leaving Root's windpipe, callused finger tips dragging roughly down to Root's breastbone, the collar of her black t-shirt. Shaw sat back as her fingers curled under the edge of the shirt, stretching the fabric down until the heel of her hand was pushing uncomfortably hard into Root's diaphragm.

Root tried to sit up but Shaw's other hand roughly slammed Root's still-healing shoulder into the mattress again. When Root winced despite her best efforts to smirk up at the dark-haired woman straddling her, Shaw didn't seem to notice. Or she chose not to. Or pain was what she wanted. Root couldn't tell.

Shaw let go of the collar of Root's shirt and grabbed a fistful of the fabric at Root's abdomen instead, letting up on the taller woman's shoulder so she could pull the shirt off over her head. Root lifted up a little to help the demanding action, but when Shaw had tossed the shirt away and tried to shove her back, Root braced herself on one elbow defiantly. Reaching out to the front of Shaw's tank top, her hand tightly fisted the stretchy material at Shaw's waist, pulling it upward. For a moment, they looked at one another. There was an unspoken challenge. Then Shaw obliged Root's insistent gaze, and started pulling her own tank top off over her head.

While she was maneuvering the material over her head, Root sat up, her hands on Shaw's smooth, fit stomach, fingers following the cloth upwards, claiming each inch of newly exposed skin. Quickly, while the tank top was above Shaw's head, Root's adept fingers rounded Shaw's ribcage and unhooked her bra, yanking it out of the way before Shaw could stop her.

The scathing look Shaw gave Root only made Root smirk in response, finger nails digging into the sides of Shaw's ribcage as she let her eyes drift down, admiring Shaw's bare torso. Shaw's angry expression faltered and she inhaled unsteadily when Root leaned forward, her head almost level with Shaw's chest because of Shaw's position on top of the taller woman. Root gently kissed Shaw's collar bone and her hands slid down to grab Shaw's hips, rocking up against her. Denim on denim.

Root kissed down Shaw's chest, feeling the firm pectoral muscles under her lips, then the soft breast tissue, finally the peaked nipple. She gave this one soft kiss, then put her warm mouth around it, her tongue circling it once before she bit with her teeth, hard enough that Shaw sucked in a breath, her legs tightening on either side of Root's lap. The hands that found Root's head were strong. They ran through her wavy brown hair, roughly digging into her scalp, pulling her closer. Root smirked against Shaw's skin and bit her again, taking her time as she sucked. When she shifted to Shaw's other nipple, she felt Shaw's hot breath on her scalp, then Shaw's parted lips pressed hard on the crown of Root's head, her breathing shaky.

Interested in the mixed response, Root pulled back just enough to look up at Shaw. The pairing of hard fingers and soft open-mouthed kiss on her head was very _Shaw_, never sure if their interactions were an attack or a show of affection. Shaw left her head bent forward, so that when Root tipped her head up she could feel Shaw's exhales on her face, and Root admired how seamlessly anger and arousal could blend in Shaw's features.

Root closed the short distance between their mouths, kissing Shaw, who ran her hands through Root's hair again, pushing it out of the way and cupping the base of Root's skull. Root rocked her hips against Shaw again and was rewarded with straight white teeth clamping down on her already tender lip. Root ran her hands up from Shaw's hips to her chest, pinching Shaw's nipples and gripping hard on her breasts.

Always an eye for an eye.

Their mouths disconnected when Shaw fumbled to undo Root's bra, her racing fingers too unsteady to smoothly unhook the fabric at first. Then Root's bra was discarded as well, and Root smiled when she released Shaw's breasts and their skin finally brushed, her nipples barely touching Shaw's skin before she was roughly pushed back against the mattress again.

Root's breath hitched and quickened when Shaw bent over, her hair falling loose from the pony tail she always wore, tumbling over Root's chest as she sank her teeth into the top of Root's breast, scraping towards Root's nipple, her tongue leaving a wet trail behind the harsh teeth. She sucked hard on Root's nipple, and bit down so abruptly that Root grunted and bucked upwards, her hands on Shaw's back, finger nails digging divots into Shaw's shoulder blades.

Root bit down on her own lip to stifle the guttural noises she felt in her throat. She had never been a fan of overly noisy sex, but now more than ever she wanted to be quiet. Like part of the challenge with Shaw was to be the one less affected. She would be damned if she lost control of herself first. Shaw twisted Root's nipple between two fingers as she moved to the other breast, repeating the harsh treatment of this sensitive flesh. Root felt her entire body tighten, her hips writhing under Shaw against her will.

The ruthless chuckle that Root felt more than heard when Shaw released her nipple only made Root's heart rate increase even more. She reached for Shaw's pants, clawing at the button, and Shaw lifted her head to bite the lobe of Root's good ear.

"You need something?" Shaw asked, her voice hoarse with animosity. Root smirked with arousal at the sound, moving her hips to rub against Shaw. She felt Shaw's hot exhale on her throat and she pressed her thumbs into Shaw's inner thighs.

"Do you?" Root asked, rocking against Shaw again and giving the shorter woman's throat a commanding bite simultaneously. Shaw arched into Root a little, and then after a moment's hesitation, she sat up, scooting down Root's body to unfasten her pants.

"Yes," Shaw said, her face uncertainly shifting into a little aggressive smile. "I do."

Root was taken aback as Shaw tugged the jeans and underwear down Root's legs together, unzipping the black boots and dropping them with a clatter to the floor, then letting the jeans drop into a crumpled heap beside them. Shaw saw the questioning expression on Root's face.

"Harold and John aren't going to be gone all night," Shaw said by way of explanation with that angry but smug expression on her face. And that face alone was enough to make Root want to tear the jeans off of her. Danger and sex. Root sat up and fumbled for Shaw's pants again, not wanting to waste any time or to be the only one now completely naked. Shaw kicked her shoes off, struggled out of her tight-fitting denim, and Root barely had time to admire the boyish underwear hugging Shaw's hips before it was discarded as well.

Root took in the dark hair between Shaw's legs, smirking because she'd wondered before what Shaw's _grooming_ habits were, and she'd been right when she figured that Shaw probably didn't do much of anything. Root and Shaw shared the same 'fuck you' attitude about a lot of things, it seemed. Arranging the hair between their legs based on the ideals of some nebulous 'they' was one of these things. Shaw pressed one leg harshly between Root's thighs, interrupting her thoughts.

She hadn't realized just how aroused she was until that point. She was already wet, already more than ready to feel Shaw on her. In her. Shaw kissed Root, less aggressively now, more longing and careful, then their mouths separated and Shaw's dark eyes met Root's. Both of them were filled with anticipation, but their was something else in Shaw's eyes that Root could see. Something like worry? Or grief?

Lips pressed hard kisses down Root's throat, to her collar bone. There was an unyielding hand on Root's bare thigh as Shaw shifted against her and Root barely suppressed a short groaning exhale. Shaw's lips were on Root's breasts, then her abdomen, her belly button, the dip beside her hip bone.

Shaw pulled Root forcefully to the edge of the bed and looked up the mattress at her, her lips slightly parted, the tiniest curve of a smile on her face when she sank a finger inside of Root. Root bit her swollen lower lip hard, propped up on her elbows to watch Shaw. Their eyes disconnected when Shaw kissed along the soft skin beside her jutting hip bone, to the edge of the dark hair between her legs. Shaw looked up at her once more, almost playful, and Root could already feel her body tightening on Shaw's motionless finger.

This made Shaw smirk a little more before she looked down again. She pulled her finger out and then slowly slid it back in with a second finger as her mouth finally connected with Root's clitoris, her tongue gently swirling around the little nerve center and Root couldn't stop the tiniest of whimpers as she reached down for Shaw's head. Shaw's free hand caressed Root's bare backside as she started to move her fingers inside of Root, her tongue still teasing the taller woman.

Root was surprised by how short a time it was before she was writhing under Shaw's ministrations. Shaw's fingernails dug into her hip, pinning Root into the mattress to keep her from bucking and displacing the teeth that were delicately closing on Root, followed by the soothing of an agile tongue. Root's hands gripped the sheets tight in her fists, white-knuckled as she whimpered, her back arching up from the bed, her muscles clenching hard around the fingers that were curling inside of her, hitting her in the exact right spot just as Shaw's teeth nipped, harder than before, sucking Root's clitoris into her mouth aggressively.

"Sameen," Root flushed as the name breathlessly fell from her mouth, unexpected, and she fell over the precipice of an orgasm, whimpering again, and then again, and a third time as Shaw's fingers kept moving inside of her, hard thrusts, and Shaw's mouth worked expertly until Root's spasming muscles slowed and she quaked with each movement of Shaw's tongue, overly sensitive.

The hand that reached out and covered Shaw's on Root's hip shook. Shaw understood the cue, relaxing her grip on Root's hip under the shaking fingers, then removing her other hand from between Root's legs. She wiped her face on the sheets and then gently kissed Root's thigh before she got up and moved to lay on top of Root again.

Root's arms wrapped around Shaw's back, eyes closed. She became aware again that at any moment Shaw could be planning on making a run for it. Before she could open her eyes or tighten her grip to show that she was savvy to what was going on, Shaw's lips softly found Root's again, and she could taste herself in Shaw's mouth.

Root kissed her back, noting that this was the opposite of what she'd expected to have happen next. Root's rapid pulse slowed and she felt less shaky as the kiss deepened. Shaw's tenderness was enough to reinvigorate Root. She wanted to taste Shaw and make her whimper more vulnerably than ishe/i had. She opened her eyes as she sank her teeth into Shaw's lip, then pushed Shaw over onto her back.

Shaw laid back, one leg bent casually, her foot planted on the mattress.

Root leaned over her and smiled at the firm expression on Shaw's face. She knew that Shaw liked to have control and Root was looking forward to taking it away from her. Shaw's mouth twitched into a little smile that was all anticipation, excitement to see what Root was going to do. She seemed in that moment like she had already decided to relinquish herself.

Root firmly pressed a leg between Shaw's as she kissed her, worrying with her teeth at Shaw's lower lip, pinching Shaw's nipples between her fingers. She felt the smile on Shaw's face even when she twisted the sensitive skin hard, as hard as she could. Shaw was pushing up into her, breathing shallow, and when Root looked deep into her eyes, she found that Shaw's were glistening, bright and dark simultaneously, watering from pain as Root raked her fingernails down Shaw's stomach. Shaw pressed her head back into the mattress and Root bit down hard on the exposed skin of Shaw's neck.

Root was planning to tease Shaw, and let her hand intentionally pass by the patch of dark hair between Shaw's legs in favor of brushing against her thigh. Shaw's hands went to Root's back, calluses pressed into her spine and her hips moved, needy.

She watched Shaw's clenched jaw and the tendons in her throat that were pulling taut, standing out like they had the day Root had sunk the needle into her neck. The motivation to make this last as long as possible was immediately lost. Root hoped there would be time for that later.

Root pushed two fingers inside of Shaw's already incredibly wet body, delighting in the little growl that escaped from Shaw's parted lips. Root kissed Shaw, sucking her lip into her mouth, and Shaw's finger nails scratched across Root's back, sharp and careless. Root continued to thrust, Shaw's leg wrapping around her to keep her so close she could barely move her hand.

Root sat back to get better leverage, and Shaw's hands still groped at Root until her chest felt like it was on fire from the stinging nails. Shaw's eyebrows were pulling together, her breath coming in little pants already, fingers raking down Root's stomach, leaving bright red stripes behind, to Root's thigh. Root curled her fingers them inside of Shaw, her thumb on Shaw's clitoris, and watched Shaw's tongue dart out to wet her bottom lip, her eyes screwed shut. The muscles clenching on Root's fingers grabbed tighter as Root thrust harder, and Shaw grunted once when her hips started moving out of her own control, hands grabbing hard at Root, who bent back over Shaw to kiss her as she rode her orgasm.

Root slowed for a few moments, her fingers still deep inside of Shaw, relishing the feeling of the quivering muscles. But she was not satisfied, because Shaw had been almost completely silent.

She kissed Shaw again, scraped teeth down her throat while she was still recovering, then moved to put her head between Shaw's legs. Shaw's eyes were still closed, her breaths coming quick, when Root started to withdraw her fingers and instead of pulling them out all the way, slid them forcefully back inside of Shaw, her mouth finding Shaw's clitoris.

Shaw inhaled with a hiss of air and her hands found Root's head and shoulders.

The sweet taste of Shaw filled Root's mouth, her nose buried in the dark hair, and she thrust hard inside of Shaw, her fingers still curling to penetrate at the perfect angle, and she pressed her other hand into the soft part of Shaw's abdomen just above her pelvis, hard enough to keep Shaw pinned in place as Root used her teeth and tongue on the sensitive flesh.

Shaw hadn't fully finished with her first orgasm before she was breathing sharply again, little exhales coming hard. But even as Root's mouth almost lost it's place because Shaw's hips were grinding into her face, finger nails so firmly cutting into her back that she thought she might be bleeding, muscles clenching harder on her hand than Root had thought possible… the most noise that came from Shaw was the sound of heavy, uneven breaths, punctuated by little grunts of air on some of the exhalations.

Root kept moving until the muscles stopped contracting as much. The fingernails had been so deeply clawed into her back that she didn't know they were gone until she felt Shaw's clammy hands on the sides of her head. Root slowed and then stopped completely, exhaling onto Shaw's swollen clitoris. Shaw tensed when Root slowly started to remove her fingers, shaking and digging her finger nails into Root's scalp.

Root smirked and started to move them back inside of Shaw, but Shaw whimpered and reached between her legs for Root's hand to stop her. The sound of Shaw's whimper made Root's heart leap into her throat with the fear that she had hurt the shorter woman.

"I won't," Root whispered when Shaw's hand grabbed onto hers, preventing her from moving. Shaw loosened her grip and fell limply against the bed. She tilted her head up just enough to watch Root wipe her chin with the back of her hand, then finish the job with the sheet because there was so much moisture from Shaw and from her own mouth that there wasn't anything else to do.

Root slowly moved up Shaw's body and hovered above Shaw's face, whose eyes were closed and whose mouth was partially open.

"Did I hurt you?" Root asked, annoyed that her concern was so obvious. Shaw smiled a little and opened her eyes.

"No," Shaw replied. Root's face stayed worried, and Shaw put her arms around the taller woman limply. Shaw looked directly into Root's eyes when she continued, her voice hoarse, making sure that Root understood when she smirked. "I don't think I've _ever_ come that hard."


	5. Chapter 5

Root slowly moved up Shaw's body and hovered above Shaw's face, whose eyes were closed and whose mouth was partially open.

"Did I hurt you?" Root asked, annoyed that her concern was so obvious. Shaw smiled a little and opened her eyes.

"No," Shaw replied. Root's face stayed worried, and Shaw put her arms around the taller woman limply. Shaw looked directly into Root's eyes when she continued, her voice hoarse, making sure that Root understood when she smirked. "I don't think I've _ever_ come that hard."

Root's face shifted into a self-satisfied smile.

"I don't want to hyperventilate or pass out or something," Shaw said between deep breaths, smile widening even though her tone was annoyed. Like she idid/i perhaps want to see what would have happened if she truly let Root have her way. Root chuckled, kissing Shaw's shoulder and rolling off of her so they were side by side on the twin bed, shoulders pressed together.

Shaw laid there for a while longer, slowly recovering. Then she turned onto her side, breasts pressing against Root. Root let her head turn to look at Shaw coyly, but the shorter woman was not looking at Root's face.

"Shit," Shaw murmured, her fingers gently gliding over Root's chest and stomach. Root thought for a moment that Shaw was going to get up, and felt her pulse quicken at the thought of pinning Shaw down, naked. Shaw didn't move but to tilt her head down, kissing Root's breast. The taller woman was surprised when it stung.

"Sorry," Shaw said, "I'm not sure I want to know what your back looks like."

Root lifted her head and looked down at her body. There were jagged red welts over her torso. Shaw gently pushed on her shoulder to get her to turn away from her, revealing the back of her shoulders to the smaller woman.

"I guess you won't be wearing tank tops for a few days…" Shaw said, sounding equal parts impressed, pleased, and apologetic.

"Is it worse than the front?" Root asked. When Shaw's callused finger tips brushed across Root's shoulder blades, Root inhaled at the sharp pain and her shoulders tightened.

"You're not bleeding, but it's… pretty raw," Shaw replied. She eased Root onto her back again and then leaned forward to kiss her. When she pulled her head away, she softly touched Root's bottom lip, which felt bruised and swollen. "Your lip doesn't look great either. Sorry about that."

Root smirked.

"Good thing I've got my doctor to take care of me," she teased. Shaw rolled her eyes and rested her head on the soft expanse of skin between Root's shoulder and bare chest, one hand covering one of Root's breasts. Root was pleased with how comfortable it was, one of Shaw's legs wrapping over hers, their bodies fitting together perfectly. Like they were supposed to have ended up this way. Perfect puzzle pieces.

She was so spent that she thought she'd fall asleep if she wasn't careful. In fact, she almost _had_ fallen asleep when Shaw started to move again. Cool air hit Root and she felt the mattress shift as Shaw stood. Root grabbed her as Shaw slipped from her side, one hand closing harshly on Shaw's wrist as her eyes shot open and she sat up.

"Don't try to leave," Root warned her, glaring sternly. Shaw looked confused, and then, after a beat, _wounded_.

"I was getting our clothes," Shaw replied, pissed and sad. "They're going to come back, and I didn't want to fall asleep like this."

Shaw gestured to herself. Root's eyes drifted down Shaw's naked body, the places that she had gotten to feel and taste in the intimate moments they'd shared. And somehow she'd now hurt Shaw's feelings, it seemed. This perplexed Root; she hadn't realized it was _possible_ for Shaw's feeling to be hurt. She gently licked at her swollen lip, letting her grip slip from Shaw's wrist, catching her fingers before the shorter woman could pull her hand away. Root lifted Shaw's hand to her lips, kissing her knuckles and then meeting her eyes apologetically.

Shaw turned her hand over in Root's, cupping Root's face, surprisingly gentle.

They were interrupted by the clicking of dog nails. Bear trotted over to them from where he'd been laying nearby, tail and ears perked up. Shaw removed her hand from Root and placed it heavily on Bear's head. When she tried to scratch behind his ear he pulled his head away, sniffing at her fingers uncertainly.

Root stood up and Bear circled the cot curiously, sniffing at everything. When he started nosing at Root's bare legs, Shaw commanded him to stop and he snapped his head away, returning to her side with his tail lowered. Shaw sent him away towards his bed and he padded away softly.

Bending over, Shaw picked up clothes from the ground, dropping them onto the bed unceremoniously, searching for something. Root spotted what Shaw was looking for, and scooped it up from the floor beside her. She moved around the bed, arranging her face into the usual playful smile, the boy shorts between her two hands. She stopped in front of Shaw, their faces close together.

"You might not want to lose these," she said, her nose wrinkling playfully. Shaw looked annoyed as she tried to take them, but Root didn't let go immediately. Shaw smirked a little and tugged on them them harder until they were released and Root picked up her own clothes from the bed and started to get dressed. "I was disappointed I didn't get to admire those longer."

Shaw finished pulling her tank top over her head and looked at Root, confused, standing there with no pants. Root smiled coyly as she let her eyes drift down Shaw's body.

"I'm sure the lacy underwear is great, but this," Root said, gesturing to Shaw's body, "is much more you."

Shaw grunted a laugh as she picked up her jeans from the ground and then dropped them on the bed.

"Maybe another time," Shaw said. Root pulled her jeans on, then grabbed her shirt, pulling it over her head and shaking her hair out from under the rumpled edge of the fabric, distorted from Shaw's earlier stretching of the material.

"I look forward to it," Root said playfully.

Shaw closed the gap between them, still in her underwear and tank top, looking thoughtful. Root's stomach flipped when Shaw shifted her weight to one foot casually. Root weighed her physical response and was disconcerted; this wasn't a wary reaction to a perceived threat. No, Root was _content_. _Pleased_ by how at ease Shaw seemed. And all of this not even a week after the incident with the needle. Her chest felt tight, full to bursting with positivity. The feeling was foreign, though not unwelcome. Just as she began to wonder what Shaw was thinking about, if it could be the same sort of thoughts Root was having, Shaw reached out and ran her hands through Root's hair methodically, brushing pieces into place, then stepped back a little. Root looked at her questioningly, exerting effort to mask her emotions.

"You look like you just got laid. Thought I should make you look a little more put together," Shaw said, smirking up at her. Root raised her eyebrows and then forced herself not to think much about what she was doing. Reaching out, she put her hands on Shaw's waist, pulling her close and tilting her head down, kissing her gently, slowly, savoring the way Shaw's mouth still tasted like Root's own body. When she pulled away, Shaw looked longingly at her mouth.

"I _did_ just get laid," Root replied, taking a beat to smile down at Shaw. Shaw closed her eyes for a moment, a little frustrated when she took a deep breath. Then she turned and walked towards the bathroom. The door stood open behind her when she went inside, and Root heard the shower turn on. Shaw appeared in the doorway after a beat.

"Want to check how the shower works?" Shaw asked stoically, arms crossed over her chest. Root crossed the room with a smile on her face. When she got to Shaw, the shorter woman smirked at her and took a step backwards into the room. Root tilted her head to one side.

"What if the boys come back?" she asked, almost apologetic. Shaw's smirk faded and after a beat, she nodded.

"Yeah," she replied. She sighed and broke their eye contact, looking down at the floor as she turned away, pulling the tank top off over her head. Root watched the strong muscles in Shaw's back and stepped towards her, letting her hands find Shaw's hips and circle around her from behind, fingers dipping under the waistband of Shaw's underwear, pulling Shaw's back to her chest.

"Next time," Root whispered, kissing the soft spot behind Shaw's ear. She turned towards Root, smirking again.

"Don't be a tease," Shaw growled. Root kissed Shaw, then let her go.

"Enjoy your shower," she said playfully, retreating from the bathroom without looking back.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm glad that it seems like some of you guys like this story! If it's your thing, feel free to leave a comment. Feedback is always welcome, and even the simplest notes make me smile!

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><p>Shaw emerged from the bathroom a short time later, drying her hair with a small towel. She glanced around the subway station as she crossed the platform towards Root in her tank top and underwear again, her bra in one hand.<p>

"Forgot clean clothes," Shaw grumbled as she approached the cot where Root was sitting, the sheets straightened but still looking more unkempt than they had a few hours ago. Root sat up and grabbed the duffel, pulling it up beside her onto the mattress. Shaw unzipped it and pointedly selected the same boyish cut underwear along with a few other things. Immediately, Root noted that Shaw smelled different. This was not the usual soap she used. Root missed the old smell- the sharp warmth, like wood. This was cloyingly sweet and far too girly.

Shaw pretended it was an accident when she bumped against Root's knee, leaving her leg pressed against Root's. Root smirked and put a hand on the smooth bare thigh, admiring how much darker Shaw's skin was than her own pale hand.

"Trying a new shampoo?" Root asked sarcastically. Shaw scowled at the reminder.

"Finch," Shaw replied. She shook her head, "The guy clearly doesn't get women."

"Maybe he just doesn't get _you_," Root replied, pulling Shaw to stand between her knees. Root pushed the tank top up, digging her nails into Shaw's sides. When Root leaned forward, kissing Shaw's stomach, the shorter woman's hands ran through her hair, finger tips digging into her scalp.

"Root," Shaw warned. Root leaned back, smirking as slid her hand further up under the tank top to Shaw's breast.

"I'm just saying," Root teased, rolling one of Shaw's nipples hard between her fingers, pinching indelicately, "you aren't exactly _typical_."

They both knew there wasn't enough time for Root to start things again, and Shaw's darkening eyes were filled with frustration as she pulled Root's hand out from under her tank top.

"All women want a full-sized towel," Shaw replied as she backed away, holding out the towel that she'd dried her hair off with. It was a hand towel. Root chuckled as Shaw rolled her eyes, regaining her composure, picking up the clothes she'd pulled out of the duffle bag and going back to the bathroom.

It was then that Harold returned. When he saw that Shaw was missing his eyes widened.

"Where's Miss Shaw?" He asked, concerned.

"Just in the bathroom, Harold. You worry too much," Root told him. When he got close enough to her, she saw his eyebrows raise.

"Apparently not. Was there an altercation?" He asked. Root realized he was reacting to her lip and licked it gingerly.

"Everything's fine," she said, smiling because she had no intention of disclosing what had happened, but she couldn't let him think that they'd been fighting. It seemed as though she didn't _need_ to tell him; his pursed lips and eyes full of frustration said he probably knew what had gone on in his absence. He looked over the cot Root was sitting on as Shaw came out of the bathroom, dressed now, tying her damp hair into a pony tail.

"You got the number?" She asked, not even glancing in Root's direction. He turned to look at her.

"Yes, everything went smoothly," he replied.

The Machine whispered in Root's ear, so she didn't have time to hear about the latest save.

"Well, I'm glad we got to have some girl time," she said to Shaw. Shaw looked over at her and her mouth twitched into a smile. Root pouted, "But I've gotta run."

Shaw acted annoyed and relieved at this news as Root picked her coat up from where it was still lying on the floor, feeling her raw shoulders rub against the inside of her t-shirt as she walked away. Later, she would take a look at her back in the mirror and see that the red welts from Shaw's nails still hadn't faded at all, little crescent-shaped abrasions dotting the spaces between the long stripes of crimson. Constellations.


	7. Chapter 7

Root stopped at the subway station two days later. It wasn't really necessary that she meet Harold _there_ to give him the newest information from Her, but she was glad for the opportunity to check on Shaw.

When Root walked in, Shaw was standing at one end of the platform facing away, sending Bear after a rat. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips and her hair was in the usual low pony tail. Her snug shirt and running shorts caught Root's appreciative eye.

"It's a little hard to work with all the noise, Miss Shaw," Harold scolded as Root entered their hideout.

"Well it's a little hard to _live_ down here with rats running around. Let us have some fun," Shaw replied loudly, not looking in Finch's direction at all. Before he could say anything to reveal Root's presence, Root spoke down the platform.

"Is that the only fun you can find?" Root teased. Shaw looked up and whistled at Bear to come, walking down the platform towards Root.

"With Finch as my company, working on things he won't let me in on? Yeah," Shaw said, antsy and annoyed. Root gave her a sympathetic look, and handed Finch a closed manila envelope.

"Unfortunately, I've got to add to the secrets," Root said. Shaw shook her head, angrily stalking past with Bear.

"I don't know which one of them is more bothersome," Finch said quietly to Root as Shaw picked up a piece of PVC pipe and threw it, hard, spinning end over end as Bear chased after it, growling excitedly. It clattered on the floor when Bear caught it and dropped it to get a better grip with his teeth. "I brought her some books and a deck of cards, but clearly that's not enough."

"Look that over, I'll keep her distracted for a bit," Root replied in a casually-amused tone. Harold opened the envelope at his desk and Root left the door of the subway car to head towards Shaw.

"What's your latest identity?" Shaw asked, throwing the pipe again after giving Root's bright lipstick and oversized black leather purse a long look.

"Katya Romanov, a Russian immigrant with expensive taste," Root said with a smile, putting the black bag she was carrying onto Shaw's cot. She turned back towards Shaw and noticed that on the floor there were tidy stacks of clothing that Root had brought on her last visit. Root smiled at the thought of Shaw creating order. Shaw looked questioningly at the bag, and Root gestured for her to open it.

When Shaw came to her side, curious, Root stood half-behind her, her chest brushing Shaw's shoulder. Shaw gave her an irritated sidelong look and then craned to see if Finch was paying any attention. Root smirked and stepped back, giving Shaw space to open the bag.

First Shaw pulled out a laptop, a charger, and extension cords.

"I think Finch has the whole computer thing covered," Shaw said. Root tilted her head playfully.

"This is to keep yourself busy. You can read anything, watch anything, but you can't purchase anything. And I've got some accounts for you to use for streaming television or movies, that sort of thing," Root explained, and Shaw didn't even try to look excited. "There are even some live sports streaming channels you have access to. I thought that might be up your alley."

Shaw nodded, but Root still saw through the attempt to show appreciation for the gift.

"There's more in there," Root said. Truth be told, she'd known that the laptop might not be a hit with Shaw. Under the laptop were the things she thought Shaw would appreciate a little more.

Shaw pulled the bag open wider and pulled out a large, soft, grey towel, folded up. She looked over at Root with thinly suppressed glee.

"Thought you might like that. Be careful when you unfold it," Root instructed. Shaw followed Root's orders and actually grinned as she removed it's contents. A bar of soap still wrapped in cadet blue paper, tied with twine in a cutesy but masculine way, two matching bottles of shampoo and conditioner, deodorant, lotion, and last but not least, a razor. She lifted the soap to her nose.

"This smells like my favorite soap," Shaw said, suspicious when the taller woman smiled. "Did She tell you to bring me this stuff?"

"No," Root said simply. It was the truth. She hoped Shaw knew that.

"You're a woman after my own heart," Shaw said, sarcastic. Root continued to smile at Shaw until Bear came to Shaw's side, curiously sniffing at the bag.

Shaw sent him away, and he went running off down the platform to where the PVC pipe had been left before.

"Miss Groves?" Harold called from the subway car, looking at Bear with frustration clear on his face. Root walked over to him, and while he asked her questions about what she'd brought in the envelope, Shaw started to do pushups beside the cot, settling back into her frustration.

Once they'd sorted out the information from the Machine, Harold turned back to his computer, typing away. Root looked down the platform, where Shaw was finishing doing sit-ups and was eyeing pipes above her head. The taller woman headed back to Shaw just as she jumped and grabbed one of the beams.

The first pull-up was effortless. The second was a little slower, but not by much. Root admired Shaw's strong body as she pulled herself up a third time, then a fourth. By the eighth pull-up, she had to pause, adjusting her grip as she hung in the air. She pulled and for a moment it looked like her chin might not clear the bar. It did, and then she let her arms straighten again, hanging, resting.

"What, no even ten?" Root asked, moving around to stand in front of Shaw. Shaw was clearly annoyed at the comment, and Root smiled. Shaw grunted as she pulled herself up again, again barely clearing the bar. Root raised an eyebrow, motioning with her head for Shaw to do another. Shaw grimaced a little but did a tenth one, then dropped to the floor.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Finch?" Shaw grumbled.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," Root teased. It took Shaw a second to realize the implication- that Root was just keeping Shaw out of Finch's hair. Shaw frowned a little more than before, her eyes soft before she turned away, hiding her face from view. She went a few steps closer to the cot and then started doing burpees, still turned away from Root. Root watched as Shaw dropped to the floor, did a push-up, jumped her legs back between her hands, then leapt into the air, knees almost touching her chest. Root watched her repeat the action over and over until she lost count. Finally Shaw stopped and Root watched her ribcage expand and compress as she breathed heavily.

"I have to go look into some things," Finch said cryptically, and both Root and Shaw turned, startled, not expecting him to be so nearby. He'd gathered up some things from his desk and was ready to leave. His eyes were on Shaw, clearly at his wits' end.

"We'll be here," Root said cheerfully. He looked at them tiredly and then turned to leave.

"I'll be back in a few hours. Mr. Reese intends to come after work, he may get here first," Finch said over his shoulder.

Shaw had turned and was looking at Root intensely. Neither of them spoke or moved while they listened to the fading sounds of Finch's uneven footsteps. Once the sound was gone, each looked expectantly at the other, waiting to see who would speak first.

Root decided to end the competition.

"Tried any new restaurants lately?" She asked with a teasing smirk, sauntering over to Shaw, who scowled.

"Fuck you," she snarled, unimpressed by Root's pestering. Root raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"If you want," she replied. Shaw's eyes narrowed, unamused and increasingly angry.

"You think this is funny?" Shaw asked, and the scathing look made a rush of fear pass over Root.

"No," Root said sternly, "but I'm trying to cheer you up some."

"Well you're not," Shaw spat, turning away again to pace, her fists tightly clenched at her sides. Root could see that Shaw was shutting down, fighting with Root because she was the only one there to pick a fight with. Root ground her teeth together, then took a deep breath and sighed on the exhale.

"Is this really what you want to do? Yell at me?" Root asked as if Shaw was a petulant child. Shaw looked back at Root with an irritated, questioning look on her face. Root smiled and let her usual light-hearted tone return. "There are more _enjoyable_ ways to spend our time alone."

Understanding dawned on Shaw's face. Her jaw clenched when Root walked past her and sat down on the cot, smirking up at her. Shaw stood over her, a few feet away.

"I don't know what you think this is," Shaw said, trying hard not to let her anger get the better of her as she gestured with one hand at the two of them. Root watched the motion and even when Shaw's hand had dropped to her side again Root continued to look at it. She didn't want to have to have this conversation. Root shrugged a little.

"Whatever you want it to be," she replied. Shaw's lip pulled upward in anger and Root saw that she'd given the wrong answer. She didn't know what the right answer was, but whatever it was, she wanted to give it.

"I get it. You're here because the Machine wants you to be- but I don't need protecting. So why don't you go do whatever it is She's telling you to do next," Shaw said. Root didn't point out that She wasn't saying much of anything these days.

"I'm here because _you're_ here," Root replied, barely suppressing her indignation.

"So what then? What do you want? I don't _do_ relationships, I do one-night stands. I don't cuddle. I don't do breakfast-" Shaw tripped over her words, trying to stop herself from saying whatever it was that was going to come out next, but she couldn't keep it inside. "I don't- I've only slept with one other woman."

Root had been preparing a defense against relationships, cuddling. She'd been ready to say they didn't have to _be_ anything in particular, that they could just have sex because it was a tension release if that's what Shaw wanted. A means to an end. But then that last sentence had come, full of anxiety, and that made Root take pause. She looked thoughtfully at Shaw, trying to decide how best to respond.

"I don't care about people," Shaw said, quieter now, with her large dark eyes shining, "I don't want to care."

The difference made by the additional word had Root feeling the same pressure in her chest that she'd felt the last time they were in the subway station together. Because when Shaw spoke, it wasn't in a way that said that she _liked_ that she didn't care. It was said as if she felt defeated, because she _did_ care. Root's heart ached as she glimpsed the inside of Shaw's world, the frayed edges of the tapestry. And she could see that Shaw was scared, no matter how much she denied it.

"Sometimes we don't get to choose who we care about," Root said meaningfully, and Shaw met her gaze. Root almost said flat out that she cared for Shaw, but she couldn't bring herself to be quite that vulnerable. So she left it open-ended, hoping Shaw would know what she meant.

Shaw shifted her weight to her other foot, and Root saw that she was trying to decide if she should step closer or not.

"Come here," Root said softly. Shaw didn't move. "Please."

"What do you want?" Shaw asked, angrier now, stepping closer despite her frustration. Root smirked and stood up, steering the conversation away from the serious again.

"I want _you_," she said. Sincerity masked as seduction. It was Root's forte.

Shaw looked angry that she wasn't being taken seriously, but Root could see that she was watching her mouth, eyes dark. Root bit her bottom lip just to watch Shaw's eyes get darker. Angrier.

A lump formed in Root's throat, and she swallowed to dispel her anxiety.

Shaw wouldn't look away from her, but wouldn't close the distance either. So Root stepped closer, doing her best to keep the movement fluid and unconcerned. She wondered if she was successfully imitating her usual swagger. More importantly, she wondered if Shaw could tell how nervous she felt.

Shaw didn't seem to, she just watched as Root got closer still, and then they were finally only inches apart, and Root tried to smirk but could feel her eyebrows pulling up microscopically at the same time, concerned. Shaw looked away, past Root's shoulder.

The taller woman wasn't sure if she should be the one to bridge the gap or if she should let Shaw do it. But Shaw wouldn't look at her, wouldn't acknowledge how close they were. Root let her eyes search Shaw's face, hoping to see some clue as to what she should do. There wasn't any, so Root sighed softly and looked down, watching Shaw's chest rise and fall, then to Shaw's hands, planted firmly on her hips, then down more to her own hands.

Root dug her thumbnail into the soft flesh of the bed under her middle finger's nail, a distraction to pull herself out of her loss for words and actions. She turned away from Shaw, annoyed that she was being ignored. Annoyed that she _cared_ so much about getting Shaw to interact with her.

"I think Harold had some things he wanted me to look at," she said. It was a lie, and she was mad that she was lying about something so stupid, and mad that Shaw was getting under her skin, most likely without realizing she was doing it. Shaw was winning, she had gotten her fight and now she could sulk all she wanted.

Root started to walk away, back to the subway car.

But Root was wrong. Shaw _hadn't_ won.

A hand closed on Root's forearm, reaching around from behind her, and jerked her back around to face Shaw.

Shaw was furious. And that made Root smirk again, knowing immediately that Shaw was far from winning. That in fact, Root was going to get her way.

"Don't," Shaw growled at her when she caught the look of satisfaction. Root tilted her head to one side lightheartedly, and Shaw reacted with ferocity. She yanked on Root's arm again, twisting it in a circle to hyperextend Root's shoulder, and Root realized when the action hurt so much that she jumped that Shaw had picked Root's bad arm on purpose. And that Shaw wanted to hurt her.

"Play nice," Root teased, knowing as soon the words exited her mouth that the pained, sharp edge to her voice would be obvious to Shaw. Shaw let up the pressure on Root's shoulder, looking sternly at her to show her who was in charge. Even when Shaw let Root pull her arm free, she kept giving her the same stony, pissed off look.

"You keep asking what I want," Root said, reflecting the same dark anger back at Shaw.

"What do _you_ want?" Root threw the question back at Shaw, who looked angrier than ever. Root continued, the pitch of her voice climbing in irritation. "Do you want to hurt me?"

"Yes," Shaw hissed venomously. Then she looked away, her face twisting and looking even more pissed off as she put one hand up, rubbing at her scowling mouth with one rough hand. She let go of her face again and her hand went to her side, a tight fist. Keeping her eyes on some distant point, shaking her head, through clenched teeth she snarled, "no."

Root's eyebrows raised and her stomach turned. Her shoulder was still throbbing in pain, and she wondered if Shaw had damaged her rotator cuff.

The dark eyes wouldn't meet Root's even when she put her hand on Shaw's shoulder. Root moved her hand up, fingers wrapping around to the back of the shorter woman's neck. She let her thumb brush over Shaw's throat. When she still got no reaction, she tightened her hand's grip, digging her thumb hard into Shaw's skin, finding the soft flesh beside Shaw's hard windpipe. Immediately, Shaw looked into her eyes.

The pressure wasn't cutting off Shaw's air; that wasn't the point.

It was all about pain, and when Shaw tried to swallow against the discomfort, it only lodged Root's thumb deeper into her skin. Shaw's eyes watered and her throat started to spasm, coughing against Root's fingers. Root let up the pressure and leaned down, softly kissing the red splotch where she'd been pushing.

"I want _you_," Root repeated, her lips against Shaw's throat. Shaw didn't pull away. If anything, it felt like she was leaning closer to Root.

"I want to make you beg," Root continued, placing a kiss higher up on Shaw's neck.

"I don't beg," Shaw mumbled in irritation. Root kissed her jaw. "I don't _perform_."

Root kissed the corner of Shaw's mouth, the downturned point where her lips met, then paused, smiling a little when she looked up and saw that Shaw's eyes were on hers.

"You can't blame me for trying," Root said. Shaw's eyebrows lowered in anger.

"I don't beg," Shaw repeated dismissively. Root smiled and kissed her, finally, hands moving to rest on either side of her face. She was soft, slow, and Shaw kissed her back but didn't reach out for her. Didn't try to touch her.

Root released her and leaned back. She guessed that Shaw would stop her again, so she acted like she was going to walk away. And if Shaw _didn't_ stop her, Root thought, then she would just keep walking into the subway car and she would fiddle with the Machine and Finch's computers. She didn't need Shaw, she reminded herself. Not really.

But her contingency plan was unnecessary, of course. As soon as Shaw realized that Root was stepping back with that little smile on her face, her mouth twisted into a deeper frown and she reached out for Root.

"Damn it," Shaw cursed herself before tugging them back together and kissing Root.


	8. Chapter 8

Another X-rated chapter here, and once again, you'll do fine without reading it. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Damn it," Shaw cursed herself before tugging them back together and kissing Root.<p>

Shaw's kiss was rough, and Root felt like electricity was coursing through her thinking about the last time they were here. Shaw's teeth clamped down on Root's lip, the lip that was just beginning to feel normal again. It hurt. The fresh sting made her stomach drop, but not unpleasantly.

Root started to push Shaw back towards the bed, still kissing, and Shaw tried to grab her and drag her instead. Fighting for control. Or fighting for the sake of fighting.

So Root let Shaw pull her along to the bed, but when they got close to the cot and Shaw tried to turn her and push her into the mattress, Root fought back, grabbing Shaw instead and shoving her down, pinning her to the cot. She wasn't quite as quick as Shaw, and she didn't know every move, but she knew _enough_ and had the advantage of size.

Once she was straddling Shaw's hips she sank her teeth into Shaw's bottom lip, returning the favor for her own swollen mouth. Shaw lifted her head, pushing up against Root, her hands on Root's chest to try to force her to dismount, but Root only bit harder, grabbing Shaw's upper arms and putting her weight on them to keep Shaw down, flat on her back.

Shaw kicked, pushing off the mattress with both feet, and Root stopped the kiss and sat back, looking at her with a commanding smirk. Shaw's mouth was three different shades. There was a burgundy smear of Root's lipstick on her mouth, the natural dusky pink of her own lips, and a shockingly bright red splotch. Shaw's tongue darted out of her mouth to the red, and Root was surprised when she licked her own that she tasted pennies. She removed one hand from Shaw's upper arms and touched her lip. It didn't hurt any worse than before, but there was certainly a smudge of blood on her finger tip when she looked it at, and Shaw's teeth were tinted with rust until she licked them clean. Root bent down and gently kissed and licked Shaw's lips, more coppery than her own mouth. When she sat back, she could see that there was a split in Shaw's lip.

Shaw writhed under her hips, a frustrated look on her face, her eyes bright. Her free arm reached up for Root's shirt, trying to pull them back together, but Root grabbed her arm, shoving it up above her head with a smile. She did the same with Shaw's other arm.

"No, I don't think that's how this is going to go," Root told her, trying to stop herself from smiling and failing. Shaw looked angry, of course, but also intrigued. Excited, even.

"Yeah? What's that supposed to mean?" Shaw asked with a sneer, shifting her hips up against Root again. Root leaned down to Shaw a little.

"It means we're going to do things _my_ way," Root said, playful. Then she let her face grow more solemn, "Or I'm going to stop."

Shaw scoffed a little, amused, and then she licked at her split lip again, looking like she was mulling this over, wondering what exactly Root intended to do. Root moved and pulled Shaw up into a sitting position to pull her tank top off. Shaw let her, and then let her pull off the simple sports bra. Both were damp with perspiration from Shaw's rigorous workout.

But then Shaw reached out to Root's shirt. And as soon as she reached for the taller woman, Root grabbed both of her arms again and shoved her back into the mattress. Shaw's face became shadowed with anger, and she grit her teeth.

"I didn't say you could touch," Root said, coy but harsh. Shaw shook her head, rolling her eyes, and Root let go of Shaw's wrists. Root then told her, "Put your hands behind your head, and don't move unless I tell you to."

Shaw did as she was told slowly, watching Root's face closely.

The shoulder that Shaw had twisted before was still aching, a dull throbbing pain when she pushed too hard. It wasn't enough to derail the plans she was forming in her mind, but it was still noticeable when she leaned down over Shaw's chest and put her weight on her hands, her hair falling across Shaw's skin.

Root kissed Shaw again, letting her hands lightly brush over Shaw's cool skin. The subway station seemed colder than usual, and there were already goosebumps raising on Shaw's flesh, her nipples hard from cold and arousal. Root kissed Shaw's throat, shifting her weight to lay on top of her, one leg between Shaw's to keep her pinned to the bed.

She sank her teeth hard into the still-pink spot where she'd dug her thumb into Shaw's windpipe minutes earlier and could feel Shaw's muscles tighten, one leg working to wrap its way around Root's, trying to press them closer together. Root released Shaw's throat and reached down with one hand, shoving Shaw's leg back onto the bed, her hand warm against Shaw's cool bare thigh where her running shorts were riding up. Root smirked. She didn't want Shaw to be able to get any friction; Root wanted to hold all the cards. The only acknowledgment was a sigh, and once again Root admired the blurred arousal and fury in Shaw's face. It was beautiful to watch.

"What?" Shaw asked, impatient. Root realized she had been still for a long couple of seconds, smiling down at Shaw affectionately, and she swallowed her feelings. She could only hope that she had played it off as though she were trying to make Shaw wait. Bending down again, Root gave the red spot on Shaw's neck another bite, then moved down lower, kissing and letting her hair drift across Shaw's chest.

She hovered open-mouthed above one of Shaw's peaked nipples, exhaling onto Shaw's goose bump-covered skin. Shaw twitched upwards a fraction of an inch, and Root started to pull away. She heard Shaw's gruff exhalation as she forced her spine to flatten again. Root moved closer once more, laughing onto Shaw's bare skin, still not touching her. It seemed like Shaw was trying as best she could to breathe slowly and evenly. Root moved her head lower, and Shaw's stomach sucked in when Root's hair drifted across it.

Putting her hands on Shaw's bare thighs, Root sat up and looked at Shaw's expression, almost pained. Root got up from the bed, untying Shaw's shoes and pulling them off of her feet with her socks, then sat on the edge of the bed, leisurely unzipping her black boots and letting them fall to the ground one at a time. Shaw's eyes never left her.

Root put her hand on Shaw's bare foot, wrapping her fingers around to the warm sole. Then she let her hand drift up Shaw's shin, watching her fingers brush up to Shaw's knee, then looked up at Shaw's face again. She was shivering, her eyes still on Root's face, her hands still beneath her head, trying to look casual and failing.

"Cold?" Root asked, standing up just enough to move back on top of Shaw, her hand never leaving Shaw's body, drifting up her thigh, past the shorts, to her smooth stomach. Shaw didn't answer, she just tipped her chin up a little. Root covered Shaw's body with her own, and when she went to kiss her, their noses touched and Root could feel just how cold Shaw's nose was. She placed a kiss there too, then moved down to Shaw's chest again.

Root exhaled onto Shaw's nipple again, letting her hand rest on Shaw's stomach, palm flat and warm against Shaw's cool skin. Then, without any warning, she took the nipple into her mouth, tongue circling, surprised at how cold Shaw's nipple was. Root could feel Shaw shifting underneath her, and closed her teeth on Shaw's flesh, her free hand moving to knead Shaw's other breast. The noise that came from Shaw's throat was deliciously arousing, a strained 'mmm', and Root could feel that Shaw's thighs were tightening, trying not to move. When her back began to arch off of the mattress, Root released her again, getting a satisfying grunt in response when she put a firm hand on Shaw's stomach to keep her down.

A phone started ringing, and Root looked up in confusion, searching for the source.

"It's mine," Shaw said, through gritted teeth. Shaw started to get up, trying to disentangle herself from Root's body, but Root grabbed her, forcing her back onto the bed.

"I didn't say you could get up," Root said, sly as ever.

"It's either Finch or Reese," Shaw said, irritated. "They might be in trouble."

Root sighed and got up.

"Where is it?" She asked, but she'd already seen it then, vibrating on the ground beside the stacks of clothes. She went and answered it, putting it on speakerphone as she turned back to Shaw, who was reaching out with one hand, her legs bent, feet flat on the bed. Root shook her head, smiling, and held the phone in one hand, using her other to pull Shaw's hand back behind her head again. Shaw understood and put her other hand beneath the pillow as well, excitement and worry clear on her face.

"Shaw?" It was John's tinny voice that came out of the speaker, wondering why no one had spoken yet. Root put the phone down between Shaw's breasts, watching her twitch as the cold metal hit her sternum.

"Yeah," Shaw said, her voice tense. Root knew that if something was truly wrong with John and Finch, she would have heard something, so she wasn't particularly worried.

"I'm going to be off work soon; I'll head your way. Finch wanted me to bring dinner. Any preferences?" John asked. While he was speaking, Root sat down at the foot of the bed, touching one of Shaw's cold feet again and kissing above her knee.

"Uhh…" Shaw mumbled as Root's hands traveled up her thighs to the little running shorts. Shaw rushed to get her words out, "I don't care."

Root pulled Shaw's running shorts down and off her cold feet, revealing black boxer briefs, hugging Shaw's ass perfectly, the wide waistband masculine and Shaw's beautiful curves feminine and Root wanted so much to kiss every inch of this dangerous woman who was clenching her jaw, trying hard to follow Root's rules.

"You ok?" John asked. Root shifted and Shaw's head tilted to see what she was up to. Root smirked up at her as she kissed just below Shaw's belly button. She could see Shaw lips form a little O, her eyes heavily lidded. John sounded concerned, "_Shaw_?"

"What?" Shaw barked, her voice higher than usual.

"Is everything ok?" he asked. Then Root kissed Shaw through the fabric of her underwear, pleased that she was already wet. The familiar smell of Shaw's body filled Root's senses as she opened her mouth and grated her teeth over the black fabric, exhaling hot onto Shaw's center.

"Yes," Shaw answered abruptly, the word harsh, ending a hiss. Root let her fingers drift and rested her head on Shaw's thigh to smile up at her as she pressed her fingers against Shaw through the briefs. Shaw bit down on her lip and her hips moved against Root's hand.

"You sure?" John asked. Root stopped touching Shaw, pushing her hips back into the mattress with a little shake of the head, still smiling.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Shaw growled.

"Alright, I'll be there in a bit," John replied skeptically. Root sat up and took the phone, ending the call, then bent to put it on the ground beside the bed. She sat back again.

"Boys always ruin the fun," Root said with a little pouty smile, giving Shaw her best doe eyes. Shaw looked mad, of course, but Root could see the little smile on her face. Root teased, "Careful, I might think you're actually enjoying this."

Shaw squirmed a little, and Root could see that she was shivering again. She moved back to her position at Shaw's underwear and started to pull them down. Shaw lifted herself up a little to allow it, but gave a stern look.

"I'm not going to be the only one naked," She said, her voice low and dark, facial expression shifting into a warning.

"I don't think you have a say," Root said playfully, letting the underwear drop to the floor. Shaw started to sit up, her legs trying to wrap around Root's body, and Root lunged at her, pushing her back with a smirk. Shaw growled in frustration, her legs loosening on Root's waist.

Root took her time, barely touching Shaw's shivering body, as she positioned herself above her. Shaw's eyes were black, brows furrowed with anger. She took a deep breath, expanding her ribcage as much as possible, and Root could tell it was an attempt to get her bare chest to touch Root's shirt. She smirked and used one long, freshly painted, dark fingernail to dig an imaginary line from the tense tendons in Shaw's throat down to her chest, missing Shaw's erect nipple. The muscles in Shaw's jaw flexed as she clenched her teeth together. Root clawed her nail back up, faster this time, directly to the hard flesh, and Shaw's head tilted back the smallest amount. Root pinched hard and watched pain and pleasure on Shaw's face, her teeth biting so hard on her lip that it was white, but the corners of her mouth turned up just enough that Root knew she was doing her job perfectly.

Root sat back, doing the same to Shaw's other nipple. Shaw's breath was quickening, and Root loved how powerful this made her feel, one hand on each of Shaw's perfect, tan breasts. Shaw grunted and Root could feel the shorter woman's hips moving between her legs, searching for friction. Root lifted herself up and saw Shaw's thighs were pressed together hard. Root released Shaw's breasts and forced Shaw's legs apart with her knee. Shaw immediately ground up into Root's thigh, exhaling a little groan of pleasure when she connected with Root's jeans.

Leaning over again, Root put one hand under Shaw's head and grabbed a fistful of lovely dark hair, wrenching the pony tail to pull Shaw's head to the side, her neck exposed. Root sank her teeth into Shaw's throat, enjoying the shuddering sigh she was rewarded with.

Root licked the spot she'd just traumatized, and tasted the salty residue of sweat from Shaw's workout. She raked her other hand's fingernails down Shaw's chest, digging them into her skin with enough pressure that she could feel each rib under the firm muscles, then the dip at the bottom of Shaw's ribcage. She moved her weight onto Shaw's stomach, the heel of her hand pushing deep into Shaw's abdomen, and she released the vice of her teeth from Shaw's neck to look at her face, eyes half-closed in discomfort as she tried to flex her abs to keep Root's hand from boring into her organs. Shaw's breathing was short with the exertion it was taking to try to prevent the pain in her stomach, and Root knew before it happened that Shaw was going to pull her hands out from under the pillow and try to gain control.

Shaw had barely moved when Root removed her hand from her hair and grabbed one wrist in a fierce grip. She removed her other hand from Shaw's stomach and reached for the remaining free hand, which was already grabbing for Root's ass, pulling Root closer and arching into her. Root grabbed that hand too, laying her weight on top of Shaw as she pinned both of the ex-assassin's hands above her head again, gripping hard with her thumb and pointer finger on either side of the joint where Shaw's hand met her wrist.

She bit hard on Shaw's earlobe.

"No touching," Root purred into Shaw's ear, smiling wide. She lifted her head just enough to look directly into Shaw's black eyes, "Unless… did you want to ask me for something?"

The enraged expression on Shaw's face said she understood that Root wanted her to beg now, and she wasn't going to. She gave a short shake of her head.

"No," Shaw croaked. She sounded hoarse.

"Then let's keep your hands up here," Root said playfully, sitting up and scraping her hands from Shaw's wrists down the length of Shaw's arms. Root got up from the bed then, and she could see the confused look on Shaw's face as she smirked down at her. Shaw crossed her ankles, pressing her thighs together as she grit her teeth.

Root methodically put her hair up in a pony tail, watching as Shaw's eyes glued to her stomach when her shirt rode up. Then Root slowly unbuckled her black leather belt. She could tell that Shaw's mind was racing, trying to figure out what Root was planning. Root let her belt dangle from one hand as it fell free of the loops in her jeans, then she slid it through her hands. Shaw's head lifted a little, looking nervous as the belt buckle clicked and then Root snapped the leather between her hands.

"There's a trick I learned that I think you'll like," Root said.

Shaw fidgeted when Root walked towards her, but then looked curious and confused again when Root inserted the belt through the buckle, tightening it almost all the way to form a little loop. It didn't take her long to understand when Root put one hand out, asking for Shaw's. Shaw swallowed hard and then extended her hand.

"Well, maybe not _like_," Root continued impishly. Shaw watched the black leather tighten around her wrist. Root then gestured for the other hand, a broad smile still on her face. Shaw slowly extended her free hand, and Root wrapped the belt in a loop around this wrist as well and slid the end through the buckle again, creating a sort of figure eight. She jerked on the end of the belt hard, tightening the rings around Shaw's hands.

"It's no zip tie, but it'll do in a pinch," Root said, her tone still as light and good-natured as could be as she looped the belt around Shaw's wrists again and through the fastener, then around to the buckle, and around once more, tucking the last bit of leather into the fastener again. She pushed Shaw's hands away from her, releasing them to let them fall above her head. She could see that Shaw was already trying to wriggle her way out of them, testing the strength. She stepped to Shaw's head and grabbed the belt, tightening it again roughly. She put on her best helpless face, "Like I said, they're not zip ties. You're going to ruin my fun if you get out. Think of it as… a reminder not to move. Assuming you do want me to keep going."

Shaw sighed and let her hands fall against the pillow, and Root stepped away again. She put her hands on Shaw's legs at her knees and ran them up the strong brown thighs. Shaw parted her legs with an almost hopeful expression on her face. Root used her nails on Shaw's thighs, sharply digging into her, and sat down between them. She bent and kissed the top of Shaw's inner thigh, mere inches from where Shaw wanted her most, then turned and bit the same place on the other leg. She could smell Shaw; could feel the goosebumps under her lips. Shaw writhed under her and she dug her nails in deeper, letting her lips brush their way towards Shaw's knee, the opposite of what Shaw wanted.

"Root," Shaw growled. Root rested her chin on Shaw's knee.

"Hmm?" She replied, smiling down at Shaw. Shaw grunted and grabbed her own hair in her bound hands, covering her face with her forearms in frustration. Root lightly traced circles on Shaw's hip with her finger tips. "You just have to say the word, and I'll give you everything you want."

Shaw was obviously not quite ready to ask for what she wanted, so Root took one hand from her hip, moving it to her inner thigh instead. Her nails brushed, feather light, up Shaw's inner thigh, and she let the slightest contact occur against Shaw's body. Shaw gave a shuddering breath. Root tightened her grip on Shaw's hip, and slid herself down to bite Shaw's inner thigh again, sucking and biting the smooth flesh so close but so far away from where her fingers had just barely grazed.

"Root," Shaw repeated. It was a delight to hear how the name came out strangled. The sound was pleading.

Root moved the hand from Shaw's hip up to her breast, kneading roughly, rolling the nipple between her fingers tightly. Root's mouth shifted, even closer to Shaw's dark hair now than she had been before, and she could feel Shaw's leg muscles clenching so tight under her mouth that she could have been a statue if it weren't for the heat coming off of her and the short, shallow breaths from her parted lips. Root let her fingers brush over Shaw again and Shaw's hips tried to push towards her hand. Root pulled away.

"Sameen, what did I tell you about moving?" Root scolded. She was surprised at how low her own voice sounded, the cheerful tone not quite as bright as usual.

"Please," Shaw grunted, her face still covered by her arms. Root smiled and moved to hover over Shaw's face.

"I didn't catch that. You should really look at people when you talk to them," Root teased. Shaw moved her hands out of the way of her face, her arms tucked to her chest. With her hands bound, it made it look even more like she was begging, or praying.

"Please, Root," Shaw growled. Root could see the desperation in Shaw's eyes, raw desire and anger in the black dilated pupils. Root kissed Shaw, biting down on the lip that had split, and one hand went between Shaw's legs, so slick and ready. Shaw groaned a little against Root's mouth as she was penetrated by Root's long slim fingers, the heel of her hand pushing against Shaw.

Shaw grabbed Root's shirt in her bound hands when Root tried to move away. Her lips slightly parted, she lifted her head up to recapture Root's lips. Root let Shaw have her way, thrusting deeper with each push of her hand, but slow. Too slow. Shaw bucked into her, trying frantically to get more of Root, and Root only pulled her hand out completely in response, pinning Shaw's pelvis to the cot with the heel of her hand. A tiny little sound came from Shaw's throat- the briefest whine, and she pressed her forehead against Root's.

"Please," Shaw gasped a whisper this time. Root pulled her head back to look at Shaw's face but Shaw had closed her eyes, looking both embarrassed and furious. Root smiled and pushed Shaw's hands up above her head again, kissing her once, crushing her lips against her teeth. Then Root moved down, her head back at Shaw's hips, and breathed against Shaw's exposed center, watching as Shaw bit her own arm to keep from breaking Root's rules. Root put one of Shaw's legs over her shoulder.

Shaw hissed when Root tasted her, and things seemed to move in fast motion. Root had her tongue inside of the beautiful woman, then replaced by her fingers, her mouth still working.

Soon, she knew that Shaw was getting close. And although the thought crossed Root's mind that she could back off, make this last longer, her hand on Shaw's stomach could feel how tense the shorter woman was. So instead of teasing her, Root pushed harder, licked more adeptly, dug her finger nails of her free hand into Shaw's ass, and the leg over her shoulder bent around her head as Shaw gasped and was finally allowed to grind into Root, finally allowed to come. Root could feel Shaw's other foot's toes stretch against her leg through her jeans, then curl against the taller woman as her orgasm crashed on her like a tidal wave, growling and panting as she shook under Root's hands and mouth.

After Shaw's muscles had stopped spasming out of her control, Root looked up at her. She was still breathing heavily, her chest expanding and contracting with each deep breath. She had her arms over her flushed face, and Root wiped her mouth before climbing back over Shaw's naked body, still dressed, her jeans riding low around her hips.


	9. Chapter 9

After Shaw's muscles had stopped spasming out of her control, Root looked up at her. She was still breathing heavily, her chest expanding and contracting with each deep breath. She had her arms over her flushed face, and Root wiped her mouth before climbing back over Shaw's naked body, still dressed, her jeans riding low around her hips.

"Take off your pants," Shaw murmured, still catching her breath. Root kissed her exposed tricep and saw that where Shaw had been biting her arm, there was a bruise forming. Root kissed that spot too, and Shaw's arm twitched at the contact, like it was tender even to that light touch. Her hands were still bound by the leather belt, but Shaw struggled against it, her breath coming in little pants again as she twisted her hands. Root watched her, knowing full well that Shaw would get out of the belt just fine. Shaw did, and let it drop to the floor with a clatter, then groped at Root's jeans, turning onto her side to face the taller woman.

"John's coming soon," Root said, amused. Of course she wanted to be touched by Shaw, but she didn't really want to risk being walked in on. Shaw tiredly put a hand on Root's cheek and rested her forehead against the taller woman's.

"You deserve some reciprocation," Shaw grumbled, her eyes closed. Root smiled.

"Is that supposed to make me worried?" Root asked lightly. Shaw opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"If that's how you want it," Shaw said with a smug expression, her voice almost as gravely as John's. Root felt warmth spreading in her chest and her smile widened. Shaw took a deep breath, sighing and letting her eyes fall shut again, relaxed.

Root put her arm around Shaw's bare shoulders and pulled her close. A shiver ran down Shaw's spine as she pushed herself to Root's chest, one hand going to the dip of Root's waist, and she put one leg over Root's hip, hooking it and pulling herself closer, so their legs were entwined.

The warmth inside Root grew. It was the feeling of her chest expanding, inflating with pleasure, and it was becoming more familiar. And it was not just sexual arousal, Root recognized. There _was_ that, of course. How could there _not_ be when Sameen was still recovering from an orgasm in her arms? But that wasn't all this was. This wasn't heat between her legs and a racing heart, this was… different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Or didn't want to. She made a mental note of what had been said and done to make her feel this way so she could mull it over later. For the time being, she wanted to let herself just enjoy how comfortable she was, gently stroking Shaw's head, her leg between Shaw's.

"John really _is_ going to be back soon," Root said softly. She was more surprised than annoyed that her voice wasn't as playful as she had intended for it to be. Instead, it sounded like an attempt to soothe Shaw.

"I just need a minute," Shaw mumbled. Root brushed loose hair from Shaw's face and felt a swell of affection overcome her when Shaw opened her eyes a little and gave a tiny smirk, one eyebrow raising a little again.

"You were right- I do like that trick," Shaw said. Root looked at her, confused, until Shaw continued. "With the belt."

Root grinned.

"I thought you might," she said, her nose wrinkling mischievously. Shaw exhaled a laugh and kissed Root. When she looked away again, Root could see tenderness in Shaw's eyes that she tried to hide by running her hand through her hair. Root noticed how red Shaw's wrist was, with deep marks rubbed in a ring from straining against the leather. Root took hold of Shaw's hand and softly kissed the inside of her wrist.

"We should get up," Root told her apologetically. Shaw groaned and sat up on the edge of the bed, slouching forwards.

"Boys really do ruin the fun," Shaw murmured, frustration in her voice. Root sat up, putting her hands on Shaw's bare back, running them down her arms as she swung her legs around to sit with one on either side of Shaw's body, her chest against Shaw's back. She kissed Shaw's shoulder.

"I know," she said, her lips still gently brushing against Shaw's skin, arms wrapping around her waist and hugging them together. Shaw crossed her arms over Root's, her hands on Root's elbows on either side of her. The gentle caress made Root take a quavering deep breath. She wanted so much to lay back down and be able to just look at the woman clutched against her.

But Shaw stood up abruptly, because Bear had just gotten up and started whining, trotting towards the stairwell with his ears up and tail wagging. She hurriedly grabbed her sports bra and shorts, pulling the bra on while she looked around for her underwear. Root stood up to look around for them but didn't see them. Shaw gave a little shake of her head, irritated as she pulled her shorts on without them, then took her tank top from Root's outstretched hand and wrenched it over her head, dabbing at her split lip with the back of her hand.

Root closed the distance between them and took Shaw's head in her hands. She quickly wiped the remainder of her lipstick from Shaw's mouth with the pad of her thumb, watching Shaw wince a little when she pressed the split in her lip, then turned and walked hurriedly towards the subway car, rubbing at her own mouth. Reese rounded the corner at the bottom of the steps before she'd made it to Finch's desk, but he didn't notice their hurrying around because Bear was circling his knees, sniffing with excitement at the plastic bag dangling from one of Reese's hands.

When Reese shooed Bear away, the dog ran off and picked up the PVC pipe, dragging it back towards Reese gleefully.

"I brought sandwiches," Reese said as Shaw approached him, retying her hair up into a fresh pony tail. "What happened to your arm?"

Shaw followed his eyes to the raw bruise on her upper arm and dropped her hands to her sides quickly, giving him an annoyed shrug.

"Must have hit it on something," she said, dismissive. Reese's eyes narrowed as they traveled to the evidence that Shaw's wrists had been bound, then up to her face. She pulled her wounded lip into her mouth and raised her eyebrows, as if that would keep him from seeing the split.

"What happened to you?" he asked with concern, stepping a little closer to get a better look at her. Shaw stepped back as casually as she could.

"You look…" Reese started, but paused when he saw the warning on Shaw's face. He shook his head thoughtfully, a little frown forming when he finally chose the words to describe her, "…like you've had a rough day."

Root smiled at John's choice of words and walked out of the subway car reapplying her lipstick, as if she'd just finished something on the computer and was casually coming to see what they were up to.

"You could say that," Root said playfully, rubbing her lips together and pocketing the lipstick. Shaw gave her a seething look. Root wasn't surprised that Shaw wanted things kept discreet, and decided to play this off like it was just the usual flirting. With an extra dose of violence.

"Sometimes you have to use force to get people to…" Root paused, looking for the best way to phrase her next words, a grin on her face as she eyed Shaw, who was looking up at her with dark eyes. "Well, to get them to do what you say."

John raised his eyebrows and followed Root's eyes to Shaw. Root could almost feel the gears in his mind working to figure out what exactly had happened, and was glad that the team was made up of people who were habitually less than forthcoming; John didn't look like he was going to ask any further questions. This was one of the games Root liked to play with herself- seeing how little she could say to reveal the whole story without actually revealing anything at all.

"I'd have gotten you something to eat too, but Shaw didn't say you were here," John said, walking between them towards the subway. Root smirked at Shaw behind Reese's back and got an annoyed twitch of the mouth in response. Root smiled wider, letting her teeth show, bright white between her red lips, knowing that the twitch was a suppressed grin.

Reese put the plastic bag on Finch's desk, pulling out a long sandwich wrapped in paper and tossing it to Shaw. She unwrapped it and took a bite without looking at what was between the thick pieces of bread, sitting down heavily on one of the seats mounted inside the car. Root sat down beside her, her knee touching Shaw's.

When she looked over at Shaw slyly, she watched Shaw's eyes open wider, her eyebrows raising on her forehead as her jaw stilled, mouth still full of food. This wasn't quite the reaction Root was expecting, but she didn't know why Shaw was giving her that look until the shorter woman motioned with her head at Root's lap.

Root followed her gaze and saw the wet spot on the thigh of her pants leg. From Shaw. She pulled her leg up to her chest right as John turned, leaning against the desk as he took the first bite of his sandwich.

"Any idea when Harold will be back?" Reese asked. Shaw was looking at her sandwich disappointedly, and Root was tracing the edge of the spot on her pants with one painted nail. Shaw shrugged.

"He just said you might get back first," Shaw said through her mouth full of food. "Where did you _get_ these? Is this even real meat?"

John was annoyed by this question, and smirked ingenuously.

"If you told me what you wanted, that would make this a lot easier," Reese said. Bear came and sat by John's feet, begging for food.

"You see, Sameen? All you have to do is ask," Root said gleefully, tilting her head to look at Shaw. Shaw glared at her. John and Bear were having a stare-down of their own, and Bear licked at his mouth hopefully until John relented and gave him some of the deli meat from his sandwich.

"Subtle," Shaw grumbled to Root while Reese was distracted. Root smirked, pleased with herself.

"I'm sorry that I'm late, I had to choose a circuitous route to get back," Harold said, entering and eyeing the bag on his desk. He picked it up passive aggressively and put it on a nearby seat. Bear immediately went to the bag and started nosing at it.

"Pfui," John commanded, and Bear pulled his face away from the bag immediately, looking over his shoulder at John, who shook his head.

"I'm fairly sure that I was being followed," Finch said, his voice carefully steady as he removed some small containers of fruit salad from the bag, eyeing the aging fruit before turning and handing one to Shaw.

"Samaritan?" Shaw asked, swallowing hard to get a large bite of sandwich down and reaching out to take the fruit from him. Bear turned at her voice and came over, putting his head on her thigh.

"Yes, I believe so," Harold said, and then paused when he got a look at her wrist. His eyes immediately went to Root. "I would appreciate it if I didn't have to worry about you two fighting all the time."

Shaw avoided his eyes, becoming extremely interested in petting Bear's head. Root smiled up at Finch.

"Oh Harold, you know how it is. Girls will be girls," she said sarcastically, leaning playfully into Shaw's space. Finch was not impressed, and Shaw shooed Bear and took another bite of her sandwich, pretending she hadn't heard or noticed that Root's arm was pressing against hers.

Bear went to Root next, putting his head between her legs. Root tried to push him away but he wouldn't stop, so she put her legs down to keep his head out of her crotch. He sniffed at the wet patch on her leg with interest and she pushed at his head again, but he simply snuffled and rested his chin on her knee. Root put a hand on his head, and he sat down, his head still on her thigh, looking up at her with eyes that were too smart.

Finch got his own sandwich out of the bag and unwrapped it. When he turned back to Shaw with a plastic fork, she had already opened the fruit salad and was popping a dripping piece of cantaloupe into her mouth with her fingers. He looked annoyed as he turned back to the bag, and Shaw smirked as she chewed. He held a napkin out behind him without looking at her again, and she ignored it until he let his hand drop to his side.

"I didn't know you two were so close," Reese said, opening his own fruit and nodding at Bear and Root. Shaw glanced over and saw exactly where the dog's head was. She raised her eyebrows and took another huge bite of her sandwich, almost finishing it, just to give herself something to do. Root watched her stuff it into her mouth. John continued, looking thoughtful. "You're not even eating."

"Don't be jealous," Root teased. John ignored her and kept eating. Shaw shoved the last bite of sandwich into her mouth and started eating the fruit like popcorn, one piece at a time. Root watched the juice running down Shaw's hand, to her forearm. It was simultaneously gross and cute when Shaw swiped indelicately at her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Seriously, this food is terrible," Shaw complained through a mouthful of honeydew, slouching in her seat. She chucked her trash across the car into the trash can and Finch gave her an annoyed look but didn't reply.

"Yeah, you've made your opinion very clear," John replied. Shaw swallowed the large mouthful of food.

"I should have asked for a steak," Shaw mumbled, looking tired now that she had scarfed down all of the food she'd been given.

"You didn't," John said, clearly losing his patience.

"Yeah, I know," Shaw said, getting annoyed back. Root bumped her knee against Shaw's playfully.

"She was busy when you called," Root interjected, smirking. Shaw wouldn't look at her, just stared at John with fury written all over her face. Root couldn't help herself, even if the next statement wasn't technically true. With a sarcastic frown, she said, "It wasn't a great time to chat- she was a little _tied up_."

John smirked.

"You don't usually do so poorly in a fight, Shaw. You losing your touch?" He asked teasingly. It was clear that he thought the wounds on Shaw were from an argument. Shaw's tongue probed at her lip for a second, then she stood up and left without another word. Bear followed her, whining as he nudged his head under her hand.

"Looks like Bear drooled on you," John said, nodding at Root's lap. Root tried to keep her smile from getting bigger as she looked down at the spot on her leg.

"Guess he did," Root said. Shaw walked towards the bathroom with her new towel over her shoulder and soap products in her hands.

"She already had a towel," Finch said, confused.

"You gave her a hand towel. This is a bath towel. There's a difference," Root said lightheartedly. The door to the bathroom slammed shut behind Shaw and they heard the water start to run.

As soon as the water started to run Finch turned to Root and John with a serious look on his face.

"So you think it was Samaritan following you, not people getting revenge for our latest save?" John asked. Finch looked away, giving a short nod of his head.

"We have to be careful. Has the Machine said anything? Given any instructions?" Finch asked.

"I told you, She _can't_ talk to me much. But She knew that Shaw had to stay down here, and She's doing her best to help us," Root said. "In the mean time, I think that all we can do is try to stay quiet."

"If we stop showing up to work, that's going to raise red flags," John said, voice gravelly. Root smiled tightly.

"I know. So we keep going to work, we keep doing what we're doing, but don't get noticed. Don't stand out. I can keep Shaw down here when I don't have an identity, but if she knows that something is up, she's going to want to get out there and help," Root said, her voice gaining that anxious edge that it did whenever she spoke about the war that was upon them.

"We can't keep her in the dark forever," John said.

"She's already bouncing off the walls down here," Finch said. Root stood up, her eyes bright.

"I will lock her up if I have to, Shaw is not leaving here until it's safe," Root said. "If they get to her-"

"They won't," John murmured, frowning.

"We already got split up once. We can't let Samaritan force us apart again," Root said, her voice rising, and she could feel tears pricking in her eyes. "None of us will survive, not Shaw, not you two, none of us. And neither will She."

All of them were quiet, the weight of Root's words sinking in. After a long pause, there were vibrations in Harold's pocket. He pulled his phone out.

"We have a new number," Finch said. Root closed her eyes against the tears that were forming. Finch moved to his desk and started typing. Root pulled her lip into her mouth and faced away from the screen. "Mr. Reese, I'll let you know once I have something to pass on. And…"

Root knew that he wanted her to look at him but she couldn't. He cleared his throat a little.

"Root?" He said solemnly. She turned her head to acknowledge him, feeling a sinking feeling in her stomach because Harold didn't ever use the name she asked him to. And here he was doing it, and that didn't mean anything good. "As long as you're not hearing anything from the Machine, could I trouble you to assist us?"

Root nodded. She turned around fully then, looking at the screen. As soon as she saw the address that Harold was looking up, She whispered in her ear. Just one word. '_Tonight'_.

"I need to go there," she said, her eyes fixed on the address.

"Any idea what the job is?" John asked.

"No," Root said, solemnly gathering her things.

"Do you want me to come?" John asked.

"No," Root said off-handedly. John looked at the ceiling. "But I have a feeling I'll see you tomorrow."

John nodded once, and Root smiled and pat Bear on the head before starting to head to the stairs. She paused.

"I don't suppose I could borrow a gun?" She asked, turning. "I have a feeling things might get messy."


	10. Chapter 10

Root didn't have a hard time figuring out who she was supposed to be watching, although she didn't hear anything more from Her. Not even when she stood outside the building across the street from their number. She'd been doing this long enough that it wasn't a problem; it didn't take help from Her to catch the glint of headlights on the sniper rifle in one of the windows, but Root had a feeling that it was going to be a long, lonely night.

There was no hint inside the building as to which apartment the gunman was sitting in, but Root knew which floor to go to, so she started by climbing the stairs purposefully. Once she was on the third floor she waited a minute, trying to choose between apartment thirty five and thirty six.

From thirty five, a woman exited, chattering animatedly on her cellphone about a guy that she was supposed to be meeting up with. Root pretended to be searching for her keys while the woman walked down the hall in her high heels and skintight pleather leggings. After the door to the elevator had closed, Root picked the lock of the apartment the woman had left from, the 9mm John had let her borrow weighing heavy in her hand. It was immediately obvious that the partier was not involved with sniper rifles, so Root silently closed the apartment door again.

So it was apartment thirty six. Root did not hesitate, going to the door and picking the lock as quietly as she could.

As soon as she started to open the door, it swung inward hard and a punch was thrown at her head. She ducked but was still clipped on her temple by the fist, her head bouncing backwards into the doorframe before she regained her balance and shoved the barrel of her gun into the face of her assailant.

There was already a gun pointed back at her from the second man in the room, the one by the window with the sniper rifle and, apparently, a pistol. Root's head was spinning, and the man who'd punched her drew a pistol with a silencer attached.

Quickly, she grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm, using his silenced weapon to shoot the second man in the knees, then hit him in the neck with the butt of her own gun so he crumpled. Root crossed unsteadily to the man at the window whose kneecap had been shot and pulled the gun from his hand. She shoved him from the chair and knocked him out as well, then leaned against the wall, reaching blindly for the chair the sniper had been sitting it. She couldn't reach it, so she turned, letting the side of her head press against the wall. It felt cool against her forehead, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself for a moment.

After a minute she could tell she wasn't going to pass out, and because she'd ducked the contact hadn't been as direct as it would have been otherwise, so she was fairly sure she would get away with bruising but no black eye or fractured jaw.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt.

It hurt like hell.

The back of her head where she'd hit the doorframe was throbbing. She touched the spot gingerly and then gently prodded at her temple, then walked carefully to the kitchenette. She wrapped some ice in a dishtowel towel and pressed it against her temple as she went back to the seat by the window, looking through the scope of the sniper rifle to the apartment across the street, where their number was sitting at his laptop in the dark.

She settled in to watch for other possible threats, pulling the Russian semi-automatic sniper rifle back a little so that lights from down below couldn't reflect off the metal and give her position away.

She'd spent the rest of the night there, only leaving her position twice. First, just long enough to get more ice, alternating between her temple and the back of her head. Then, she'd drug the men into the elevator for their friends to find. The groaning as they started to come around was tedious. Their pockets were empty but for some ammo, which she'd taken. She wasn't sure who they were, or why they were there. The Machine was silent.

Eventually their number had fallen asleep on the couch, the blue light of the laptop shining on his sleeping face until his computer went to sleep as well, and the room was completely dark.

Now the sun was just beginning to make the streets of New York glow, and she watched through the sniper's scope as John showed up outside the number's apartment building. She flicked on her earpiece.

"I was wondering when you'd turn up, John," she said playfully, and watched Reese look around himself three stories below her.

"Have you been here all night?" he asked.

"Fifth window from the east end of the building across the street from you. Third floor," she said, and watched as Reese looked around and found her window.

"Any problems?" he asked, looking where she was seated. She knew he couldn't see her- she had no lights on in the room and with the street lights flipping off there was nothing illuminating her. But Reese wouldn't let that stop him from pretending they were face to face having a conversation.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she said, prodding at the lump on the back of her head. "No one has come or gone for hours. But I imagine our man will need to go to work sooner or later."

"I'll take it from here. I'm tailing him to work, we'll see what turns up," he said. Root looked across at the number's apartment, where the light in the living room had just turned on.

"He's just waking up. If you need somewhere to keep an eye on him, I'd recommend thirty six. There's already a sniper set up," Root said, moving away from the window and picking up the SIG Pro pistol she'd taken from Reese at the subway station, wondering if she should take the pistol with the silencer as well.

She decided she might as well and tucked John's pistol into the waistband of her jeans, which sagged with the weight of the gun. She'd forgotten her belt at the subway station, and the memory of Shaw biting her own arm, her hands bound above her head, made Root smile a little to herself despite her nagging headache.

She opened the closet and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from a hook. It was the only thing there, so it would have to do. She paused to pull it over her head, then left the apartment with the silenced pistol and knelt by the welcome mat. To John, she said, "Key's under the mat."

With that, Root headed down the stairs, her gun drawn at her side just in case. When she got to the lobby there were police officers just pulling up with lights flashing, entering purposefully, stopping everyone from leaving. There were five or six residents standing in the lobby anxiously. Root touched her ear piece again.

"On second thought, you might want to wait until things here cool down," Root said playfully, turning back into the stairwell. She could hear John sigh. "I'm going to need an alternate route out of here."

"Just a moment," Finch's voice intruded.

"Harriet the spy, are you eavesdropping?" Root asked good-naturedly. Finch didn't respond to her comment.

"Alright, at the bottom of the stairwell, there should be a service door. If it's open, you should be able to exit through the superintendent's apartment to the alley," Finch said after a beat. Before he had finished speaking, Root had tried the door and found it locked. With the butt of the handgun she smashed the doorknob and bullied the door open. "It would be best if you didn't make so much noise. You're attracting attention."

"Those cops look like they mean business, Root," it was Shaw's voice that Root was hearing now.

"Aren't you supposed to be letting Finch work?" Root asked, trying to keep her tone light despite the adrenaline that was beginning to pump through her veins.

"I would if you weren't getting the whole NYPD's attention. One of them heard the noise, he's headed your way," Shaw said, and even through the ear piece Root could tell that Shaw was more worried than mad. Root entered the disheveled apartment. There were dirty dishes stacked on the counter in the kitchenette and a pile of unfolded clothes beside the bed.

"You worried about me, Sameen?" Root asked with a smirk.

"Miss Groves, you need to hurry," Finch said, his voice urgent. Then, panicked, he added, "Mr. Reese, what are you doing?"

"Detective Riley, homicide," John's voice was back. Root couldn't hear if someone was replying to him. "I'll check it out, you boys can go."

Root tried the back door to the apartment only to find it locked.

"Another locked door," she said. She turned to the window above the sofa and tried that as well. It was painted shut. "Window won't budge either. I'm breaking it."

"No, let John intervene," Finch said sternly.

"It's too late for that. Go, now," Shaw commanded. And she was right. It _was_ too late for John to stop the cop from following the noises Root had made.

"Freeze! Hands up!" The officer yelled. Root smashed the butt of the 9mm into the glass, shattering it, and turned to smile at the young guy who looked like he probably didn't even shave yet. He had his gun drawn, but his eyes were wide, like he hadn't actually expected to _find_ something when he followed the crashing sound in the stairwell.

Root pointed her gun back at him, still smiling as she swung her legs over the sill. He fired a shot before she dropped to the ground. Root had intended to run immediately, but his shot had grazed her left hip and she'd fallen, breaking her fall in the scattered shards of glass with her gun hand.

He reached the window and fired four more shots.

Three missed.

One did not.

Root gave a strangled yelp.

"Root, what happened?" Shaw was loud in her ear, anxiety clear in her raised voice. It felt like her left elbow had been torn open.

"Miss Groves, are you alright? We can't see the alley." Finch's voice was higher than Shaw's, panicked and shrill. But she didn't have time to stop, and she was gritting her teeth so hard that she couldn't speak.

She rounded the corner onto the street and pulled the hood of the over-sized sweatshirt over her head with her right hand, her left tucked into the pocket to hide the gun and hopefully, the wound in her arm. Without looking back, Root darted into the steady flow of foot-traffic on the sidewalk.

"Help Reese. I'm out," Root said, and before anyone could protest, she had turned off the earpiece and was speed walking from the scene, the gun held tight in her burning right hand in the large front pocket of the sweatshirt, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. She felt hot liquid on her left forearm, and swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

The crosswalk ahead of her changed to '_Don't Walk_', and she wondered which direction she should turn. She was afraid to look back in case the young cop was still following her, and right when she was about to turn left and cross the street, a sign on the building across the street started to flicker, catching her attention.

It usually read '_Right On Time!_' in neon letters, but the words '_On Time_' fluttered for a moment and then went off completely. Then the word '_Right_' began to blink steadily, and Root smiled and turned to the right.

Root walked as quickly as she could, keeping an eye out for more messages from Her. At the next intersection, a pay phone rang across the street and Root walked towards it. As soon as she got close it stopped ringing.

She was being led by the Machine to wherever she needed to be next.

Root followed the hints for a few blocks and then couldn't find any more. Worried, Root looked around herself, and realized that she'd been paying so much attention to clues and the people around her, as well as the pain radiating from her elbow, that she hadn't been paying attention to where she was being taken.

She was at Shaw's alias' apartment again. Glancing around once, Root made her way inside, and when she didn't receive any further instructions once she was in the entryway, she headed up the steps to the apartment. Her head felt foggy as her headache raged, and she thought to herself with a smile that she could see what sort of beer or hard alcohol Shaw liked to buy for herself. And if Shaw drank coffee. Any clues about what she could bring the woman trapped in the subway station would be useful.

And then the thought of resting for a bit in Shaw's bed occurred to her, and that was incredibly appealing. Everything was taking its toll on her. She was exhausted.

When she tried the handle to Shaw's apartment, she almost didn't think to be surprised to find that it was unlocked. But she did catch herself before she just strolled inside.

Immediately, she pulled the gun from the hoodie's pocket, opening the door slowly, not sure what she'd find on the inside.

Shaw's apartment had been ransacked.

Every drawer in the living room was open, the limited contents thrown onto the floor. The couch cushions had been cut open with a knife and thrown aside, the filling strewn about the living room. Root walked cautiously towards the kitchen.

The cupboards were all open. Root was surprised, and realized quickly that she shouldn't have been, that there were only a few mismatched forks, spoons, and knives. Shaw had almost nothing in her kitchen. One cutting board, a couple of sharp knives, four matching tumblers, a fifth of a different style, three pint glasses, three plates, one bowl. A fourth plate was shattered in pieces on the floor.

Since there was no one in the kitchen Root moved on to the bedroom. Here, again, clothes were dumped on the floor, the sheets had been torn from the mattress, which had been hacked open like the cushions in the living room. The pillows had been sliced open too. Root put her hand on the ruined pillow case and thought that she should have brought one of them to Shaw.

And now it was too late.

She pulled her hand away from the pillow and saw that she'd left blood behind.

Root felt her boot step on something solid and lifted her foot. It was a small medal that looked vaguely familiar, but Root couldn't put her finger on where she would have seen it before. It was gold with red accents, with a man's face, cyrillic letters, a star, and a hammer and sickle. She bent and picked it up, turning it over in her bloody hand, looking for a clue as to why this of all things was an object that Shaw had deemed appropriate to keep. Or maybe it belonged to the intruders. It wasn't unthinkable that Russians had gotten roped into doing dirty work for Samaritan. The sniper rifle had, after all, been a Russian model. Root put the medal into the pocket of her jeans and was reminded again that she'd left her belt behind at the station. She wondered if she should try to find a belt in Shaw's closet to make a tourniquet. She wasn't sure if that would help.

There was only one room left to check. The bathroom.

As soon as she'd pushed the door open, Root knew that there was no one in the apartment anymore. And, as she could have predicted, there were few personal effects in Shaw's bathroom.

Rubbing alcohol, gauze, medical tape of varying widths and strengths, other bandages, scissors, a scalpel, long thin tweezers. It was practically an ER. Which was perfect. Aside from those things littering the floor, the medicine cabinet held only a toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, and a stack of hair ties. Shaw wasn't exactly high maintenance.

Root winced and gasped as she tried to pull the hooded sweatshirt off and her wounded arm was jostled and pulled. A harsh sob racked her body as she lifted her arm, tugging the bloody fleece off over her head.

She started to pull off her shirt and had to pause, carefully lowering herself to the ground, grabbing desperately at the sink with her right hand to keep from falling, but her palm was slick with blood and she half-fell against the wall, sliding down to the floor. She struggled with her shirt again and finally took the scissors and cut her shirt off of herself.

The pain from her elbow was radiating up her arm into her shoulder and back, and down into her wrist and hand.

She closed her eyes, screwing them shut and inhaling deeply, slowly, then letting the air out. She needed steady hands.

She opened her eyes again and looked down at her gun hand. There were pieces of glass embedded in her knuckles from catching herself with a closed fist. There was blood on both of her hands. And her other arm, the one that had been shot, didn't look good. The bullet had not actually hit her elbow. Instead, it was an inch or so above the joint, and it looked as though it hadn't hit bone, just soft tissue. Root didn't know if that was good or bad, she just knew that it hurt and that it was bleeding. A lot.

She sterilized the wound, sweating from pain, her head screaming at her, and she almost passed out but knew that if she did, things would only get worse, so she took a couple of slow gulps of air and counted to five in her head, willing herself to relax.

After she'd done what she could, pressing gauze hard against the wound and taping it up tight, she moved on to the hand with glass in it. With the tweezers in her non-dominant hand, she pulled pieces of glass from the cuts, gritting her teeth and gasping. Finally, she picked herself up from the floor and washed her shaky hands, sterilized her knuckles, and taped gauze over them as well, clumsy because her arm hurt and her left hand wasn't used to fine motor skills.

There was a bottle of codeine at her feet, and she took two immediately.

Root left the bathroom and found a button-up shirt on the floor of the bedroom. It would have to do. She couldn't bear the thought of pulling another shirt over her head. It was really too short for her, but she was glad that for her size, Shaw didn't have narrow shoulders. She grabbed Shaw's black leather jacket as well, figuring she could use it to cover up her wounds when she left.

Root made her way back to the kitchen, leaving the bloody shirt and hoodie behind, and looked for a bottle of anything strong enough to take the edge off of the pain. There was an almost empty bottle of scotch, which Root finished in two large gulps, and some cheap beer in the fridge. Root took two of the bottles, found a bottle opener on the ground, and went back to the living room, setting the single metal folding chair upright next to the card table that completed what Shaw obviously would have called her dining room set.

Root grunted as she sat down, and opened one of the beers, holding the bottle between her legs and using her bandaged hand to work the opener. She spilled some beer on her pants, and the cap fell to the ground. Root looked at the splash of beer on her thigh, fading from fizz to a large dark spot. It was only a handful of hours ago that she had been tracing the edge of a similar patch on these jeans courtesy of Shaw.

She felt woozy, sleepy, and she wondered if she could have a concussion as she drank a few more gulps of the beer, grimacing when she hiccuped once against the carbonation, sending a sharp pain from her elbow outward.

Looking around the living room, Root was glad she'd gotten rid of all of the weapons that Shaw had hidden there. She realized she should get one of the guns, and finished her first beer while slowly heading back to the bathroom to retrieve the gun with the silencer still attached. She left the empty bottle in the sink and went back to the card table, putting the gun down heavily and then fumbling to open the second beer.

She sat there for a while, drinking swigs of beer, and thinking about the neat stacks of clothing that Shaw had on the floor of the subway station. And this was how her apartment had been left. Turned inside out.

She put the beer bottle on the table and flicked the ear piece on, realizing as she did so that it felt like she was moving in slow motion. Like her brain was churning like a bike with a broken chain, and her body was just drifting through the motions belatedly.

"How's the number doing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Miss Groves, are you alright?" It was Finch that answered. Root knew that Shaw was probably close by.

"Just peachy. I'm going to have to keep moving soon, I don't think I'm safe here," Root said through clenched teeth, picking the beer up again and taking a heavy swig.

"Where is _here_? I can send Mr. Reese-" Finch started, but Root cut him off, shifting to try to find a more comfortable way to sit.

"At a _friend's_ place. Near the number's apartment," Root said, hoping Finch would know what that meant. He didn't reply, and she was worried he wouldn't find her. She tried to use her usual casual tone but she had to keep stopping to think about what she was trying to say. Her brain felt fried. "Someone else has been here. But I got rid of all the weapons the last time I was here, so-"

"You're at Miss Shaw's apartment? You're not safe there, you need to keep moving," Finch said in a panic. "This is Samaritan. The officer, the visitor to Miss Shaw's apartment- you need to go."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to get back right now, and," Root said, but had to stop, a dry sob heaving through her because she hurt, and she was scared, and she felt very much alone. And to make things worse, she felt like she was slipping into unconsciousness. She clenched the bottle hard in her hand, pressing her eyes shut hard and then opening them wide to try to clear her head. "Uh… but…"

"I'm contacting John. He's on his way, just stay where you are," she could hear Finch speaking, but it sounded like his voice was on the other side of a wall of water. Her mouth felt dry, and she lifted the bottle again to drink. It took her a few seconds before she realized the beer had slipped from her fingers and was spinning on the floor, a pool of liquid spreading, reaching the sole of her shoe. There was beer soaking into the shirt as well.

"Sam…?" Root said, wanting to speak, but she wasn't even sure what she was trying to ask. She just wanted to know that Shaw was _there_. If there was a response, she didn't hear it.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for all the positivity, guys! The updates have to slow down a little because I don't have much of a buffer anymore, but I'm going to try to keep posting about every other day. I'm hoping, based on how I've mapped out the rest of the story, that this should be complete around the time that Person of Interest comes back in January, so if you like this story so far, you should stick around! It's helping me cope with the long break and hopefully it does the same for you.

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><p>Root hurt.<p>

Her head was pounding, her arm was throbbing, her hip and hand were burning, and she felt nauseous. She opened and closed her mouth, trying to lose the cottony feeling. Something wet and cool pressed against her face, and then Bear whined. She opened her eyes a fraction of an inch and took a deep breath. The dog's nose was right there by her own.

She was in the subway station, on Shaw's cot. And Shaw was sitting in a chair at the end of the bed, her bare feet propped against the mattress' frame. Her dark eyes were watching Root, and she looked mad.

Root was relieved to see her there, even though there was no relief in Shaw's own expression, just anger.

"That was stupid," Shaw growled at her. Root closed her eyes again and sighed. She felt like she was going to cry and she didn't want to. It wasn't something she usually did, and she didn't want Shaw to get even angrier. "You should know better than to take pain meds and chug alcohol. Especially if you're sleep deprived. And bleeding."

Root shrugged and immediately wished she hadn't, because it made her hurt even worse.

"And you should've been putting pressure on that wound in your arm," Shaw continued, fury boiling in her.

"You should have called as soon as you got away. If someone else had gotten to you before Reese did…" Shaw's voice trailed off, and Root could tell even with her eyes closed that Shaw had gotten up from her seat. Root opened her eyes to see where Shaw had gone and regretted it when a tear rolled from her eye down to her temple. Shaw was standing beside her now, and had seen that single tear. Root pressed her lips together, feeling childish and small and stupid.

Because Shaw had seen it. The evidence that Root was not strong. Shaw would not respect weakness, emotional or physical, and this was both. Another tear followed the first, and Root closed her eyes again, tilting her head away from Shaw in embarrassment and lifting her good arm to rest it over her eyes.

"Stop," Shaw said, and the word was full of anger.

Root could feel her face contorting against her will as a sob shook her chest.

She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why she was crying. But she couldn't stop now that she'd started. Her shoulders and chest moved as another jagged sob lurched through her. She bit her lip hard, holding her breath to try to regain control.

"Why are you crying?" Shaw asked. Root wished she would just go away, because every time Shaw spoke and Root heard the anger in her voice she felt more pathetic. More scared. More stupid and lonely.

"Is she alright?" It was Finch's voice, and Root felt even more humiliated knowing that now she had an audience.

"She's fine," Shaw's fury was clearer than ever when she spoke to Finch. After a beat, she added, acerbic, "Do you mind?"

"Of course. I'll just… go home. I'm going to take Bear. I can have Mr. Reese or Detective Fusco bring a second cot if-" Finch started.

"Don't need it. Just go," Shaw commanded. Finch called Bear to him, and Root thought she might be done crying, taking a quavering breath. She inhaled deeply again, her jerky breathing the only sound she could hear.

"Take this," Shaw said, very close by and less tense than before. Root uncovered her eyes and struggled to sit up, a little whine escaping from her because moving hurt. Shaw put a hand out for her, but obviously wasn't sure how to help and let it drop back to her side. Root took the pill from Shaw's hand, and tried to take the glass but winced, and Shaw pulled it away from her. She let Shaw tip the glass of water for her to take a drink. When she only took a sip, Shaw shook her head. "Drink it all."

Root did as she was told, and then laid back down gingerly, wincing, unable to look Shaw in the face. She closed her eyes, and took another steadying breath. She was past the worst of it, she thought.

"Sorry," Root said quietly, hoping that Shaw was still close by. She'd been wrong to think she was done crying. As soon as she'd said the word, another gut-wrenching sob shook her. Like it had been waiting for the opportunity to escape.

"I don't know what you're apologizing for," Shaw's voice mumbled, much closer than Root had expected. It sounded like Shaw was level with Root now, perhaps kneeling beside the bed. There wasn't anger, but still quite a bit of annoyance. Root turned her head further away from Shaw's voice. Her heart ached hearing how frustrated Shaw was. Shaw sighed.

"Stop crying," Shaw commanded again, and Root wished so much that she could but she couldn't.

"I- can't. I'm… I'm _trying_," Root said between little gasps of air.

"Alright. Scoot over," Shaw grunted. Root rolled onto her right side, facing away from Shaw entirely, curling her body as her crying worsened with the pain. She put her hands, the bandaged one and the one attached to her shot elbow, up to her face, weeping unencumbered into them.

The cot shifted, and there was warmth against Root's back, followed by a blanket pulled over her. Then Shaw was tucked behind Root. Shaw's arm looped around her, and Root could feel breath, warm on the back of her neck. It took a moment for Root to notice that it wasn't just her _own_ breathing that was unsteady.

Then the breathing moved away, and one of Shaw's hands gently brushed through Root's hair. Root could tell that Shaw was checking the bump on the back of her head, but the closeness and the contact made Root immediately feel better. Soothed.

Root opened her eyes and turned her head just enough to see that Shaw had herself propped on one elbow, looking down at her with dark eyes that were shining. Root had never seen Shaw quite like this before. Then Shaw blinked twice and cleared her throat, looking away, her eyes clearing to stoicism again.

Root turned her head away again; the disappointment coming in waves off of Shaw hurt worse than her injuries.

"This is a one-time thing," Shaw growled. Root couldn't bring herself to look at the shorter woman. Shaw reached around her and wiped at the tears on Root's face with the pad of her thumb. "And, so you know, you got lucky. The bullet in your arm didn't do any serious damage. It went through clean. So I didn't have to dig anything out of your arm. And your hip is fine, just scraped up. You did a pretty good job with the glass in your hand. And I haven't really checked yet, but I don't think you have a concussion."

Shaw fell silent for a few seconds.

"I'm surprised it's hurting you so much. I thought you were tougher than that," Shaw's tone had shifted from irritation to teasing. Root opened her eyes, knowing she probably looked like shit, and made eye contact with Shaw.

"You're ok," Shaw told her sincerely. Root's chest was tight, her heart felt like it was on fire. Her eyes fell from Shaw's bright eyes to her mouth, the tiniest smile curving at the corners of those pouty lips, the dark split from their last encounter still clear as day. Shaw saw where Root's eyes had gone, and she leaned forward, kissing the corner of Root's mouth because that was as much as she could reach from this angle.

"I don't know why I'm crying," Root whispered, her eyes closing again. Shaw's hand brushed through Root's hair again, and Root felt herself relaxing. Shaw must have noticed the effect of her action, because she repeated the movement of her hand, again and again, calming Root until she finally gained some control of herself instead of the tenuous grasp from before.

"You said my name," Shaw said finally, and Root opened her eyes to meet Shaw's, then looked away, resting her head on its side.

"Yeah," Root exhaled the word, not sure what else she could say. She had felt like she was losing herself completely, and all she could think to do was ask for Sameen. She didn't know what to do with that information. She doubted Shaw would want to have to worry about it.

Feelings weren't exactly Shaw's style. Or her own. Usually.

Tears pricked at her eyes again. Because Root hated that she _felt_ so much. Feelings about Shaw. Or feelings _for_ Shaw. And feelings would only make Shaw dislike her, which of course made Root have _more_ feelings. Root saw the cycle rounding on itself, setting itself up for exponential loops, and knew she was being an idiot. But knowing she was an idiot didn't stop the tears from welling up, and a single drop rolled from the corner of her eye to the bridge of her nose.

"Don't start that again," Shaw said softly, her voice firm but not angry. There was something else there that Root wasn't sure of. Shaw blotted the tear away gently with the edge of the sheet and Root looked up at her again. Shaw looked peaceful, almost. Root swallowed hard, and Shaw kissed her shoulder through her shirt. "You're safe. Ok?"

Root nodded, a tiny nod, looking up at Shaw's reassuring face. Shaw smiled a little, and Root _did_ feel safe. Then Shaw shifted and started to get up.

"Please," Root whispered, closing her eyes again so she didn't have to look at Shaw when she continued. Her chest felt tight with fear as soon as Shaw left her side. "Please stay."

Shaw's hand touched Root's hair again gently. It occurred to Root that it was almost the same gentle affection she often watched Shaw show to Bear.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just don't want to sleep in these jeans. Figured I should get comfortable," Shaw said, and Root opened her eyes to see that she was telling the truth. Shaw's hands went to the fly of her pants and she shoved them down her legs unceremoniously. And even crying in bed, feeling like a baby, Root couldn't help but notice the little black briefs hugging Shaw's hips perfectly. Shaw spoke again, and Root looked back to her face. "You want me to help you out of those disgusting pants?"

"I don't have anything else to wear," Root mumbled. Shaw raised an eyebrow.

"You seriously concerned about decency?" Shaw asked incredulously. Root looked at the wall as Shaw spoke sarcastically. "I'm gonna get low on clothes eventually, especially with you bleeding on my stuff. You got my shirt pretty good. Almost got my jacket too. Good thing John got there when he did."

Root knew this was probably not actually the top of Shaw's list of concerns, but she still felt bad. She wondered if Shaw could see how upset she still felt.

"I actually like that shirt on you. It's a little small, sure, but form-fitting clothes don't do you any harm," Shaw said, her voice like gravel. Root looked up at her, surprised by the little smirk on the face of the shorter woman.

"_I'm_ supposed to flirt with _you_," Root said, cracking a weak smile. Shaw grinned.

"There you go. Welcome back," she said, obviously glad that they were getting back on even footing. She nodded at Root's jeans. "So?"

"You're awfully eager to get in my pants," Root said thickly, reaching to the button and zipper herself and flinching when she tried to unfasten them. Shaw pushed her hands away, chuckling as she quickly undid the button and gently pulled the denim away from Root's sore hip.

"As if you have a problem with that," Shaw said playfully. Root smiled but gasped in pain a little when she put her arm back on the bed.

"Sorry," Shaw said hurriedly, her hands disappearing from Root's waist. Root shook her head.

"No, just um… it's my arm," she said, her voice a little shaky.

"Alright, you're ok," Shaw said quietly, reassuring. Then her hands were on Root again, and she could feel her pants around her feet, and then they were gone. She realized then that she wasn't in Shaw's shirt anymore and looked down at her body.

"Whose shirt is this?" she asked in confusion. Shaw came back up to the head of the bed, folding Root's dirty pants and her own, and placing them nearby.

"John's. His undershirt. He didn't want you hanging around unconscious in just your bra while I patched you up," Shaw said, clearly amused. "He's quite the gentleman."

Shaw turned away, pulling her shirt off over her head and unfastening her bra, then kneeling to find a grey wife beater, pulling it on over her head.

Root watched the muscles in Shaw's back. The Machine was perfect, but She wasn't alone in perfection. Humans were beautiful. _Shaw_ was beautiful. Physically, she was perfectly engineered. And while Shaw was illogical and irrational at times, and often impossible to reason with, Root recognized that somehow, these things were perfect as well. Perfect because of the imperfections. Beautiful because of the flaws. Shaw turned back around and raised an eyebrow again.

"You checking me out?" She asked, almost playful. Root smiled and caught sight of the bruise on Shaw's upper arm when the shorter woman pulled her hair out from the top of the tank top.

"Always," Root replied, breathing slowly and steadily, trying not to give away how much affection she was holding in her chest. Shaw rolled her eyes and came back to the bed.

"You want to ditch your bra? I can't stand sleeping in 'em, personally," Shaw said. She wasn't making a pass, she just wanted to make Root comfortable. Root looked thoughtfully at Shaw, who started to fidget. "Look, I really don't do the whole 'stay the night' thing. So I'm sorry if I don't know the right questions to ask. I just, you know, you're hurting… And I'm supposed to be the doctor."

"Is this how the doctor-patient relationship is supposed to go? I've been doing it wrong," Root teased, and tried to reach up under the shirt, behind herself, to unhook her bra one-handed. Needless to say she was not successful. Shaw sighed and stepped over to her, helping her sit up and then pulling the shirt off carefully. She unhooked Root's bra, crouching behind her, and then slid the straps down Root's arms. Without stepping in front of her or touching any part of Root's torso, Shaw helped her put the shirt back on and eased her back into the bed.

Shaw walked over to the fusebox on the wall and shut off the lights. Inside the subway car, Finch's computers still glowed faintly on their own circuitry, never sleeping. Root could faintly make out Shaw's silhouette as she approached again, her feet quietly shuffling towards the cot. Root sighed as Shaw got onto the little mattress again and tucked herself against Root's back.

Lips pressed against the back of her neck and stayed there, gentle and reassuring. For the first time in weeks, Root slept and felt comfortable. Sure, her body was aching, but it was luxurious to stay with Shaw's bare legs tangling with her own, feeling Shaw's torso solidly pressed against her back, a kiss pressed into her shoulder. Root felt like she could breathe.


	12. Chapter 12

I hope everyone has (or has had) a Joyous Holiday Season or Merry Christmas or Happy Hanukkah or Happy Kwanzaa or Happy Festivus or Pleasant Winter or Lovely New Year or Enjoyable End of December or just a Nice Thursday for those of you who don't believe in months. I don't know who that would be, but if you're reading this, have a Nice Thursday, friend!

Enjoy!

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><p>Root woke up hours later, the same cottony feeling in her mouth. The lights were still off, and Root could feel the steady inhale and exhale of Shaw's breathing against her neck, punctuated by the occasional grunting snore. Her arm was stiff when she flexed it, and Shaw's arm, tucked around Root's waist, tightened in a hug. Shaw's face burrowed deeper into Root's hair, and Root jerked away when Shaw's forehead pressed into the tender knot on the back of her head courtesy of the doorframe.<p>

Root gently pulled Shaw's arm from around her waist and sat up, wincing in pain because her back and arms and neck were so tight. Standing up, she used the dim glow of Finch's computers to make her way to the bathroom.

She fumbled in the dark with the faucet of the old sink, and cupped her unbandaged hand under the running water, bending to take a drink. It was an arduous process, because she was sore and her head was throbbing. She had to pause once, her eyes screwed shut against waves of pain when she moved her arm the wrong way, but after a few seconds she regained her composure and kept drinking.

"You ok?" Shaw's voice came as a surprise. Root looked up and could barely make out that she was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest. Root wiped the water from her chin with the bandage on her knuckles.

"Just thirsty," Root replied. "Sorry if I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it," Shaw said quietly. She pushed off the doorframe. "Let me get you a cup."

"It's ok, I'm done," Root told her. But Shaw was already going back to the cot.

"Want another pain pill? It's been long enough," Shaw asked as she returned. Root thought about saying no, but Shaw was already pressing the pill into her hand in the darkness, and Root didn't see the point in pretending she wasn't hurting all over. She took the pill and glass from Shaw, filling it with water. "Remember. Lots of water. Don't want you to get sick to your stomach."

"Whatever the doctor orders," Root said, trying to sound like her normal self but unable to hide the pain in her voice. She downed the glass as quickly as she could. Shaw's hand found Root's back through the dark, and she pressed her palm against Root's spine, warm and reassuring through the thin undershirt.

"Back to bed?" Shaw asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Root wished almost desperately that she could see Shaw's face, but the bathroom was pitch black. Her body shuddered when she took a breath, and she was surprised to find herself fighting against tears again. She was even more surprised when Shaw felt the shake under her hand and turned Root around so they were facing one another, carefully wrapping her arms around Root.

"Hey," she said soothingly, hugging Root to her chest. Root put her arms around Shaw's waist and let her head rest against Shaw's shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears. When she took a steadying breath, she felt Shaw's arms tighten. Then, after a long pause, Shaw spoke again, leaning back from Root. "Come on."

Root let Shaw lead her back to the bed, her arm snug around Root's waist. Root laid down on her back and pressed her bandaged hand to her eyes to blot away the tears that were clinging to her eyelashes. The cot moved under Shaw's weight, and then Shaw's chest felt warm against Root's side.

They laid still for a long time, Root's breath evening as she moved past the sensation that she was going to burst into tears again. In the dark, Root's eyes couldn't adjust enough to make out Shaw's features beside her, so she closed them, focusing on breathing through the pain.

A long while later, the cot shifted, and something brushed against Root's mouth, so light that Root thought she might have imagined it.

"I was scared," Shaw whispered, and Root could feel the words breathed against her lips. Root didn't know if Shaw thought she was asleep or if she had just decided now was the time for vulnerability, when they were alone in the station, so dark that Root couldn't have looked her in the eye if she'd tried. Root didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything at all.

She kept breathing as Shaw settled her head down on Root's chest.

Eventually, Root fell back to sleep.

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><p>Root woke again, this time feeling much better. The subway station was still dark, but Shaw was no longer in the bed. Root lifted her head quickly, looking around in the dark and seeing that Shaw had the laptop and was sitting in the chair at the foot of the bed again, her bare feet tucked under the blanket, touching Root's own. The laptop was illuminating her face, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her.<p>

A phone buzzed and Shaw picked it up quickly, typed something, then put it back down. It buzzed again, and Shaw sighed in frustration when she looked at it, then typed again.

"Is everything ok?" Root asked, her voice froggy. Shaw got up and set the laptop on the chair, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Everything's fine. The boys are just checking on you," Shaw said, her hand finding Root's knee. "How're you feeling?"

"It doesn't hurt as much now," Root said, straining to sit up. Shaw's cold hands tried to help her ease into a sitting position. "What time is it?"

"About 9 AM. You can keep sleeping if you want," Shaw said. Root shook her head, and realized Shaw probably couldn't see her.

"No. Can we turn on the lights?" Root asked. Shaw got up quickly and Root could hear her moving away. Then the lights came on, and Root squinted, her head aching dully. Shaw came back, blinking against the light, and sat beside Root on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg up to her chest. Root reached out and put her bandaged hand in the crook of Shaw's knee, fingers curving around Shaw's calf. She let her hand drift down to Shaw's ankle.

"You're cold," Root croaked, and coughed to clear her throat.

"Yeah, we could stand to have a heater down here," Shaw complained. She looked over at Root but wouldn't maintain eye contact.

"Sameen?" Root said quietly. Shaw looked at her again, pulling her lip into her mouth anxiously. "Thanks."

Shaw's eyebrows pulled together and Root could tell she was trying to figure out what to say.

"You're welcome," she said finally. Root closed her eyes and sighed.

"Are they coming back soon? Harold and John?" Root asked. Shaw chuckled.

"Not for a couple hours at least," she said, her voice low.

"Why is that funny?" Root asked, opening her eyes. Shaw looked away as soon as they made eye contact, but Root thought she'd caught unadulterated tenderness.

"I figured you might want a shower. Thought that'd be easier without the white knight and the judge hovering," Shaw said, raising her eyebrows with sarcasm as she pulled Root's shirt up and her underwear down enough to look at the scrape on her hip. Root winced a little but it really did feel much better. Shaw looked like she wanted to say something else, but she wouldn't look Root in the eye.

"I told them not to come for a while because… I wanted to just… be able to be here for you. If you need it," Shaw finally said. Slowly at first, and then her words started to pick up speed as she tried to put up clumsy facades, protecting herself from the honesty of her own words. "Not that you need it, but you were hurting so much last night, and you know, in case you start crying again, which you shouldn't, but you can if you need to. I mean, I know that people do cry when they- if they get hurt."

Root put her bandaged hand on top of Shaw's, which was still probing at the grazed skin on Root's hip. Shaw looked up, startled and flustered.

"I'm sorry I wasn't careful. And I'm sorry I cried," Root said, smiling a little. She knew the smile wasn't reaching her eyes. In fact, the sting of fresh tears came suddenly. She looked away from Shaw, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"I just don't know what I'm supposed to do," Shaw said, annoyed. Root nodded, her eyes on the opposite wall.

"I know," she said quietly, and hated that her voice sounded strangled by emotion.

"Root, it's ok. You're ok." Shaw's voice was frustrated but earnest. Root took a deep breath and nodded again, then looked back at Shaw. It wasn't ok. She may have survived this round, but Root knew that things were going to keep getting worse. But she didn't want to say that. She wanted to stay in the subway station with Shaw, solid and comforting. Shaw looked at her, anxious. "A shower might make you feel better."

Root picked at the edge of the bandage on her hand.

"Ok," Root said quietly, and started to stand up. Shaw got up with her, hands planted on her hips out of habit, and they stood looking at one another uncertainly for a second. Root pulled at the hem of John's undershirt, feeling exposed now that the lights were on and they were standing looking at one another. Root wanted to say something about what Shaw had whispered in the middle of the night, but didn't want Shaw to shut down on her. It seemed better not to bring it up. Not when Shaw seemed to be on edge. Shaw looked away first, running a hand through her hair.

Root let her eyes fall to Shaw's neck, then her chest, where it was clear that Shaw was cold in just the tank top and underwear. Root smirked a little, her gaze following the curves of Shaw's body, the slim waist, the strong thighs. The same thought that she'd had last night entered her mind: the human body, particularly ithis/i body, was perfect.

"I should take a look at your brand new piercing afterwards," Shaw said, her voice gruff, and Root looked up quickly, hoping she hadn't been caught appraising Shaw's physique. But Shaw's eyes were on the ground. Root didn't understand at first what Shaw meant, which Shaw must have guessed because she looked up then. With an apologetic look she explained, "I've got to clean your elbow."

Root's stomach sank. She knew that this would not be fun. Shaw's uneasy expression was all Root needed to see to know that Shaw was going to hurt her, and this time it was not going to be the fuel of anger and sex.

"I should've known better than to think I could keep feeling this good today," Root said, the nervousness of her voice undermining the smile she tried to give Shaw. Shaw nodded.

"Well, shower first. Doesn't make much sense to put on clean bandages and then get them wet," Shaw said. She headed towards the bathroom and Root followed.

Inside, Root saw that someone had moved a little table into the small room where there was a myriad of medical supplies. In the trashcan there were fistfuls of bloody gauze and a few dirty surgical gloves. She hadn't noticed all of these things in the middle of the night because it was so dark.

Root thought of Shaw, Harold, and John; how they had probably all been right here the day before, and she had probably been between them, unconscious.

"Here, take another one of these," Shaw said, opening the little container of pills and shaking one into Root's hand. Then she turned and filled the cup on the edge of the sink with water and handed it to Root. "That should hopefully take the edge off a little when the time comes."

Root could feel her heart racing.

"Alright, I'm gonna take all your bandages off," Shaw said, and Root nodded when Shaw stepped towards her, taking Root's arm in her hands. She paused for a second, looking at her hands on Root's arm. "You need to be careful. It'd be better if you didn't get it too wet or be too aggressive with it."

Root could see that Shaw was thinking about how to phrase what she wanted to say next. Finally, she looked up and made eye contact with Root, her face serious.

"It might be easier if I helped you shower," she said. Root couldn't help the smile that spread on her face, and her eyebrows raised. Shaw was a little embarrassed, and then adjusted her face to a look of defiance. "You wanna try to do it by yourself?"

"No," Root said, trying to be stoic, but she couldn't completely wipe the smile from her face. "I'm just glad I've got a doctor who's so willing to help."

Shaw looked annoyed, and then pulled Root's arm up a little, pulling the edge of the medical tape up from Root's skin. Slowly, Shaw lifted the bandage from Root's arm. The large strip of gauze that had been taped in a ring above Root's elbow fell away and Root glanced down to see the entry and exit wounds in her flesh. Shaw was looking at them closely as well, leaning over to get a good look. When she gently prodded near the wound Root unintentionally jerked because it hurt.

"It's not bleeding, which is good," Shaw said, removing her hands from Root's arm. "You're gonna need to keep it dry though, I'll tape some plastic over it and you'll just have to keep it out of the way."

Root felt a little shaky, but Shaw was all business and that was reassuring. Shaw took Root's bandaged hand in her own and started pulling the tape away. It hurt because the gauze was sticking to the wound, but Shaw helped it free and looked at the red cuts on Root's knuckles. Root looked as well and was surprised that it looked as good as it did.

"I had to glue these up. Stitches are awkward on knuckles. So this should heal up alright, but it'd still be better to not soak it," Shaw said, then turned and tossed the bandages into the trash can.

She taped some plastic around Root's arm, and when she finished they looked at one another for a long moment.

"Ready when you are," Root said, trying to smile.

"Alright," Shaw said. Shaw reached around Root and turned on the shower. There wasn't a curtain or any real separation of the shower from the rest of the bathroom since Root had haphazardly installed it days before, and Shaw gently pulled Root towards her out of the way of the stream. "It takes it a second to get warm."

Shaw reached out to Root and took the edge of the undershirt in her hands, pulling it up and over Root's head. Root let Shaw undress her, swallowing hard. Shaw kept her eyes on Root's except when she was guiding the shirt and then the underwear past the wounds, not letting her hands or gaze stray. Then Shaw turned and pulled her own tank top off, and Root wondered why Shaw kept turning away from her to change. She watched Shaw slide her underwear down, putting all of the clothes on the tank of the toilet, as far from the shower as possible.

Then Shaw turned back to Root, and Root instantly saw why Shaw had turned away when she was changing.

There was a pair of red scabs slightly off center on Shaw's chest. The two circles were equal in size, about two inches apart, and Root recognized what they were immediately.

"Who tased you?" she asked, surprised and concerned. Shaw looked like she wished Root hadn't noticed but knew this was coming. Root reached out to touch the welts on Shaw's breast bone and Shaw let her, looking past Root's shoulder with grief in her eyes.

"Finch," Shaw growled, her eyes darkening. Root's eyebrows raised as she watched Shaw's lips purse.

"Why?" Root asked, letting her fingers brush over the welts, hiding the angry marks on Shaw's chest as if somehow that would make them disappear. At first, Root thought Shaw was going to leave her question left unanswered. Finally, she replied with a tight sneer.

"I tried to leave," she said, still avoiding Root's gaze. Root shook her head.

"You can't do that, you know they're out there looking for you," Root said, worry and frustration in her voice. She didn't understand why Shaw would do something so reckless. But then, that wasn't really true. She had a feeling she knew iexactly/i why Shaw had tried to leave: because Root and John had been in a dangerous situation, and Shaw hated missing out on the times when things got hectic. Shaw glanced into Root's eyes and then away again.

"I know," she said, taking her time, worrying her teeth over the split in her bottom lip. She sounded annoyed when she continued, but by the end her voice had softened. "John was going to keep watching the number and send Fusco to get you when he had a chance. I thought ithey/i were going to get to you before one of us did."

Root felt guilty for putting Shaw in that position, but also angry because Lionel and John had handled it just fine, and Shaw needed to trust them.

Root couldn't decide what she wanted to do more- yell at Shaw or kiss her. She moved her hand from Shaw's chest to her cheek, and Shaw turned her head away from the contact, looking sad and annoyed.

Root didn't know what to do, and wished she didn't feel like a ghost standing naked in front of Shaw. She felt like sinking into the subway tiles, letting her pale skin become a part of the cold white walls and floor. She couldn't think of a time when she simultaneously felt so happy and angry with the same person. She was worried she was going to cry again.

"The water's hot," Shaw said, finally looking into Root's eyes. As soon as they made eye contact Root knew she didn't want to yell at the shorter woman. Shaw smiled apologetically and stepped under the shower, putting a hand out for Root to follow her.


	13. Chapter 13

I'm glad you guys are all enjoying this story! Yes, I've been posting both here and on AO3, and will continue to do so. Unfortunately things are very busy right now what with the holidays so I'm not getting much time at all to write, but I'm doing my best. As long as it seems like people like what I'm doing I'll try to keep the updates timely. Thanks for commenting and favoriting and following and all that good stuff- it means a lot to me!

Also, if you're into listening to music while you read, I was listening to A Perfect Circle's cover of When The Levee Breaks while I was writing this, pretty much on repeat.

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><p>The water felt good pelting against Root's skin despite the sadness sitting heavy in her stomach. She let Shaw move her arms out of the way. Let herself be turned around, her head tilted back under the hot stream of the shower. Her eyes closed when Shaw's hands worked shampoo through her hair, then conditioner, her fingers gentle against the knot on the back of Root's head. They were so close together that when Shaw tipped Root's head back more and reached around her to rinse the soap out of her hair, Root felt Shaw's chest accidentally brush against her own, and then Shaw moved away, realizing how close they were, perhaps. Root couldn't be sure with her eyes closed.<p>

She blinked water out of her eyes when Shaw's hands left her scalp.

The shorter woman was washing her own hair as well, working her hands on her own scalp much more aggressively than she had on Root. Shaw turned and saw Root looking at her, and Root could see her throat bob as she swallowed.

Her eyes were huge and mournful, her mouth turned down at the corners. Root wanted to reach out to her, but didn't know if Shaw would let her, or if that was what Shaw wanted.

There was a translucence about Shaw that scared Root. Sameen was like centuries-old stained glass. Root could see the design in the window, an ex-assassin who had a propensity to get lost in the grey of the moral spectrum, and Root could see that there was a light behind the image. A heart in a heartless woman. Shaw had always done what she did thinking that it was the right thing to do. But there was more to it than that. And no one had taken the time to care for these windows. Darkened by dirt and smoke, so the colors weren't as bright as they should have been. Sure, they'd made it through bombings without being shattered, but they were so caked with grime that they were almost unrecognizable. It wasn't that Root wanted to be the one to carefully wipe them clear again. But she wanted to be near them. Wanted to touch them, and look at them as closely as she pleased. Understand them.

Shaw rinsed her own hair and stepped out from under the water, her shoulders hunched against the cold air outside of the shower's spray. She picked up the bar of soap Root had given her the day before. It almost slipped off the edge of the sink when she reached for it. There was no where else to put it in the small bathroom.

Stepping back under the water, Shaw's shoulders relaxed at the warmth on her skin.

Shaw wouldn't look into Root's eyes when she reached out with the soap and touched her stomach, moving her hand in a circle, following it with her other to spread the soft white suds across Root's abdomen, avoiding the scrape on Root's hip. She looked away completely when her hands moved over Root's chest, then looked back to Root's body when soaping under Root's raised arms and then up behind Root's shoulders, her hands slipping smoothly to Root's spine.

Root felt like her whole body was vibrating, her mind racing, wishing that Shaw wouldn't be so sterile because it made her heart lodge in her throat. They were so close that Root could feel the warmth of Shaw's body radiating towards her.

Shaw's chest brushed Root's again, and Root could see the flash of darkness in her eyes even though Shaw was avoiding eye contact at all costs. Root let their bodies touch again, and Shaw started to back away, thinking it had been accidental until her eyes flicked back to Root's for a moment and then away. When their eyes connected, even though it was for a microscopic amount of time, there was an instantaneous understanding that it was ok for them to have contact.

Shaw's eyes snapped back to Root's as soon as she'd processed the unspoken agreement, and her eyes looked bright despite the melancholy in her face.

Root closed the gap between them again, and Shaw didn't move away, her eyes on Root's. Root bent her head and kissed Shaw, her hands still awkwardly stretched out of the way of the water. Shaw's hand found Root's good hip, steadying them against one another, then she guided Root back towards the wall, kissing her with bridled urgency. Root could tell Shaw was trying not to hurt her.

When Root's back touched the tile she tensed against the ice cold, and Shaw pulled away with concern. Root put her right hand on the back of Shaw's head, pulling them back together to kiss Shaw again, ignoring the pain of the water hammering against her ripped up knuckles when Shaw's mouth found hers.

Soapy hands slid over Root's torso, the bar of soap still clutched in one of Shaw's hands as she ran them over Root's sides, letting their bodies come together again. She paused in kissing Root, their open mouths still brushing together as Shaw looked into Root's eyes. Root found herself wondering if her own eyes were half as dark as Shaw's.

The fingers of Shaw's free hand splayed and drifted over Root's body, her neck to her shoulders to her chest, still half under the pretense that she was helping Root get clean. Root breathed heavily into Shaw's open mouth, her eyes hanging on Shaw's eyelashes, the dark irises consumed by wide pupils, the drops of water rolling down the bridge of her nose.

Root tried to meet Shaw's mouth again, but Shaw pulled away, keeping their mouths separate as she moved. Shaw leaned forward again, still not actually kissing Root, their parted lips barely touching.

Then Shaw looked into her eyes, silent. Her hand moved down Root's stomach, snaking between them. Shaw's fingers were slick against the patch of hair between Root's legs. Root's heart thumped loud and fast in her chest, tight with desire.

The hand wasn't even between her thighs when Root felt her knees weakening and her feet slipping on the tile. She grabbed with her wounded arm for Shaw's shoulders to catch herself, and cried out in pain when water pounded against the plastic sheet taped over her elbow.

Immediately, Shaw knew what had happened and moved her hands. One to Root's arm, shifting it back out of the way, the other dropping the soap and catching Root against the wall by her armpit.

Root leaned her back against the tiles, recovering from the shock of pain, her eyes shut.

"We can't do this," Shaw said quietly. Root felt sorrow and disappointment hot in her throat. She hoped that the shower would mask the tears that were boiling just under the surface, threatening to spill out from her closed eyelids, and tried to keep her face from screwing up and revealing that she was hurting. It made her feel worse that it was more from Shaw's words than from the bullet wound in her arm. She didn't even know why such a simple sentence had hurt her so much.

She let Shaw's hands pull her back fully under the water to rinse the soap from her body. Then Shaw pushed her back to the wall and kissed her neck.

"You're going to get hurt," Shaw said quietly, moving away. Root realized that she may have misunderstood the wounding sentence, and if that was the case she didn't want to open her eyes and reveal the stupidity of her emotions. She stayed where Shaw had left her for a long couple of moments, breathing deeply to dispel the tension in her chest.

When she finally did open her eyes, she saw that Shaw was looking down at the scabs on her chest, white foam from the soap collecting between her fingers as she touched one of the wounds. She quickly spread the soap across her body, then rinsed herself clean and turned off the shower.

Shaw looked over at Root and handed her the grey towel, hunching her body and crossing her arms now that the water's heat was gone. Root started to towel off and had to stop because exerting force on herself made her arms hurt. Shaw saw and took the towel, gently blotting the water off of Root's skin.

She dried herself off some and handed Root her underwear and shirt, then put the towel around Root's shoulders after watching her get dressed. Shaw quickly put on the tank top and underwear she'd been wearing before.

"Let's get this over with," Shaw said, turning away.

Shaw gestured for Root to sit down on the closed toilet.

"I can probably clean it with you sitting here," Shaw said, moving to sterilize the equipment with rubbing alcohol while she kept talking, not looking at Root. "Which is good because the floor is pretty cold. You didn't seem to mind it yesterday, but I'd guess you might this time. Since you're awake."

Shaw put on a pair of gloves as she turned back to Root, who had sat down on the lid of the toilet, cold under her bare thighs. She held her arm out and Shaw crouched beside her, gingerly taking hold of Root's wrist and elbow to turn her arm, pulling the plastic off. Root found that she couldn't watch as Shaw gently cleaned the wound. It hurt so much that she thought she might throw up, her other hand gripping her bare thigh hard to try to distract herself from the pain.

But then it was over. Shaw capped the antibiotic ointment and re-bandaged Root's arm, then took Root's other hand from her thigh and did the same. After she'd finished, she ran a hand over Root's skin where she'd dug her fingernails into her own flesh. Root felt wet hair brush against her thigh and she looked down at Shaw, whose head was tilted up so she could look at Root.

"You look pale," Shaw said apologetically, squeezing Root's knee reassuringly.

With every second that passed, her arm hurt less. Now that Shaw wasn't actively touching it, her nerves were calming.

"I'll get in touch with the boys, get 'em to bring some food. It might help," Shaw said as she stood up, turning to leave the bathroom. Root got up too and followed Shaw through the doorway.

"Wait a while," Root said, and she knew that it didn't sound as strong as she wanted it to, but Shaw had paused and was looking back at her. Root approached her and put her bandaged hand on Shaw's arm, smiling weakly.

She really didn't hurt all that much anymore, and she didn't feel like sleeping, but she wanted to lay down. Wanted to feel Shaw's warm body against hers again. She was pleased when Shaw nodded and followed her back to the bed, and was surprised that Shaw guided her back against the pillow wordlessly, like she _knew_ without being told exactly what Root needed.

But Root could tell that Shaw was anxious. Root smiled and propped herself up on her good elbow, extending a hand towards Shaw, encouraging her to come lay face to face. Shaw climbed into the bed, still looking uncharacteristically nervous as she laid down and pushed her wet hair behind her.

Root touched Shaw's cheek. Shaw let her, and hesitantly put her hand on Root's waist. Root wanted to crush herself against Shaw, press herself against Shaw hard to confirm that they were there, together.

Shaw kissed her, all soft lips and warm damp skin. Shaw rolled Root onto her back gently, and her palm pressed flat against Root's chest, cautious and careful when it drifted over the undershirt Root had put back on.

Root winced a little, trying to stop the sharp little intake of breath when she put her arm around Shaw's shoulders to hug their bodies together, the need to be in contact urgent, and pain radiated from her elbow.

Shaw stopped the kiss. She looked guilty and then reproachful.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, her voice low. Root felt the pressure of unshed tears in her throat because she wanted so much to be close to Shaw. But she blinked them away, swallowing hard as she smiled, her lips pressed together tight.

"You won't," Root managed to say without giving away how desperate she felt. Shaw raised her eyebrows in a warning.

"If I do, you have to tell me to stop," Shaw said, frustration in her voice. Root could see how dilated her pupils were, and thought of how quickly Shaw had turned the tables from sterility to sexuality in the shower. She knew that Shaw wanted this as much as she did. But this wariness in Shaw was new, and Root didn't fully understand it.

"I will," Root told her with what she hoped was a convincing smile. Shaw's mouth curved upwards at the corners, and she bent her head to kiss Root again.


	14. Chapter 14

This chapter is X-Rated (until the break near the end). And as always, if you want to skip the sex, you can do that, but do read the bit after the break!

I'm glad that new readers are still finding this story! I'm very flattered that so many people are enjoying it! All your comments make me smile, so if you're into leaving a review, know that I'm reading them and appreciating every one of them! It definitely motivates me to keep writing and posting quickly when I know that you guys are looking forward to the next piece.

If you like listening to music while reading, I made a playlist of what I was listening to while I was writing. Apparently I can't link to things in a story, but if you search "Ch14 Caged Animals" on youtube, the playlist will come up. You clearly don't have to give that a listen! But if you're into that sort of thing, these songs set the mood. 

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><p>The hand that caressed Root's waist beneath the undershirt was gentle despite the rough finger tips. Shaw's lips were tender on Root's, featherlight as they moved from Root's lips to her jaw, down her throat.<p>

Everything about Shaw's motions suggested that they had all the time in the world. Unhurried but not teasing, she spread her fingers on Root's stomach. Just to feel Root's skin.

Root felt a surge of affection for Shaw when the shorter woman pulled her head back so their eyes could meet.

She let her hand slip further up under the shirt, her thumb brushing against the swell of Root's breast. Root lifted her head a little to kiss Shaw again and Shaw obliged, meeting her lips again as her hand and fingers kept moving, lightly tracing patterns on Root's ribcage in slow motion.

Shaw removed her hand from under Root's shirt, instead running her fingers through Root's damp hair, separating her lips from Root's as her hand shifted from Root's hair to her neck. It drifted to Root's mouth, one finger drifting along her bottom lip like she was blind, reading brail, and Root kissed it. Shaw replaced her hand with her mouth again, kissing Root and moving her hand down her neck to her chest again.

Her palm pressed warm against Root's breast through the shirt, and when she lifted her hand Root raised herself up to keep the connection, her spine lifting from the mattress. Shaw's fingers lazily circled Root's hardening nipple through the white cotton, then gently rolled it between two fingers. Root sighed into Shaw's mouth, and Shaw moved her head down, kissing Root's throat. Root's eyes slowly shut, and through the undershirt she felt the hot exhale of Shaw's breath against her other nipple followed by the contact of Shaw's mouth.

Shaw kissed her way down Root's chest and stomach to the edge of the undershirt and slowly pulled it up. Root arched her back again to let Shaw pull it up more smoothly, but she seemed content for the moment to place soft kisses just below Root's belly button. One after another in a wandering line, her hands circling Root's waist.

Root tried to sit up but when she used her elbow to help prop herself up it hurt and she had to stop, a shiver running down her spine at the pain. Shaw took hold of Root's hand in her own, giving it a squeeze as she looked up into Root's face, asking with her eyes if she was ok. Root smiled at her, and Shaw helped Root sit up and took the shirt off carefully, then followed it with her own.

Root's eyes immediately went to the wounds on Shaw's chest. They were magnetic to her. She couldn't inot/i think about Shaw being so desperate to leave that Finch resorted to using a taser on her. She put out her hand, covering the scabs again because it hurt to think of Shaw wild with anger and worry. Shaw's face immediately saddened. She looked hesitant again. Like she was afraid of Root, maybe.

Reaching out to her, Root kissed Shaw reassuringly, not sure why there was fear in her eyes or what else she could do about it. The hands that found Root's face were purposeful and careful at the same time, fingers in the soft hair at the base of her skull, heels pressed against her jaw, Shaw's kiss increasingly needy.

Root put her hands on Shaw's waist, careful not to move too much because she knew it would hurt her arm and she was afraid Shaw would stop kissing her if she sensed the pain.

Shaw laid Root back on the mattress, still kissing her, and Root relaxed into the bedding, Shaw's chest and her own touching lightly. Then her eyes shut again as Shaw kissed across her cheek to her neck. She felt Shaw's nipples brush against her stomach as Shaw continued her trail of kisses to Root's chest, lingering on her collar bones, then down her sternum. With her face between Root's breasts, her touch was so gentle on Root that she might have been someone else.

Her mouth on Root's breasts was luxurious. The lips and tongue that encircled each nipple were tender, taking their time. Root put her bandaged hand on the back of Shaw's head, feeling her face flush and her breathing increase as Shaw moved against her, pressing her hip bone between Root's legs so Root was laying with her legs apart, shifting against Shaw.

After she'd spent a long amount of time kissing and touching every inch of skin from Root's neck to her stomach, Shaw shifted down more, kissing Root's thigh, letting her breath and lips slide over the pale skin, her fingers breezing over Root's hips, carefully missing the grazed skin on Root's side.

One hand, fingers spread like a star, traveled back up Root's stomach. Shaw kissed her through her underwear, just as soft and delicate as every other kiss, her other hand on Root's thigh. Root put her hand on top of Shaw's on her chest, wanting to feel as close to her as possible.

When Shaw exhaled onto Root through the fabric, Root's hand tightened on Shaw's. Shaw turned her hand around from Root's chest to be palm to palm with Root's, pressed her fingers between Root's, entwining them as she kissed Root's body again, open-mouthed against the fabric of her underwear. She reached her hand from Root's leg up behind her, beneath the underwear's edge to pull Root's hips towards her face.

Root took a shaky breath, sighing at the fluidity of Shaw's motions, that perfect body and all of its muscles that worked in unison towards a goal. A goal that was being on or in or with Root, or all of the above.

Root's mind was going fuzzy.

She squeezed Shaw's hand like it was an anchor, but her arm throbbed painfully and she had to stop. Shaw released her hand, like she knew, but kept her palm warm against Root's chest, the hand behind Root, inside her underwear, shifting to pull the underwear to the side.

A sharp little exhale caught in Root's throat when Shaw's tongue pressed into her. Her breathing was already unsteady, little pants, coming short. Shaw groaned once, low and quiet, her mouth pushed against Root. The vibration made Root's toes curl, her body tightening deliciously.

Shaw pulled away, smirking up at Root as she pulled her underwear off, followed by her own boy shorts.

Then Shaw moved back down between Root's legs, and her mouth was on Root again, one hand taking Root's in her own, holding onto Root's hand reassuringly, blindly, her other hand brushing against Root's inner thigh. Shaw's tongue moved rhythmically against Root, and then a finger slid slowly inside of her, and Root sighed an '_oh_', drawn out and quiet as Shaw's hand and mouth moved together.

Root knew her hips were moving in time with Shaw, knew how hopelessly desperate she must seem, but she didn't care. She felt herself being pulled higher and higher by Shaw's expert mouth, her breathing increasing, her hips grinding up into Shaw. She lifted her head and saw Shaw's strong shoulders.

Root took a shuddering breath, wanting contact again, wanting to be close, closer than before, closer than they ever could be. Shaw looked up when Root reached out for those strong shoulders and tried to sit up, so she saw her wince, saw the tears immediately blurring her vision because it hurt and she wanted to be able to grab Shaw and hold onto her.

Shaw quickly moved up Root's body, kissing her hungrily and pressing their chests together. Root could taste herself on Shaw's tongue.

She pressed a leg up between Shaw's, and Shaw let her, let them move together, her own breathing coming shorter. Root put her arm around Shaw's shoulders, holding them close together as Shaw gently sucked on her bottom lip, releasing it only to take an unsteady breath, a low groan coming from deep in her throat as her hips pushed harder back against Root's.

They were so in sync, so closely fit together.

Their eyes connected and Root felt like some of Shaw's perfection was spilling out through those dark eyes into her own because Shaw was looking at her with so much adoration and desire. Like this was the only place they could ever be this human. This animalistic.

Shaw's teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, and Root could see the split, still healing. She pressed her mouth into Shaw's, making her give up the assailment on her own lip so they could kiss again because this wasn't about hurting. The pressure in Root's chest and between her legs grew, more intense, and she had to stop kissing Shaw because she felt like she was gasping for air when that warm palm found her chest again, those strong fingers delicate when they closed on her nipple.

Under Root's arm, Shaw's back moved faster, and Root arched up into her, their legs pressed together. Her eyes shut. She couldn't help but grind harder up into Shaw, and she felt the sharp intake of air that this brought. Root opened her eyes again and saw that Shaw was as close as she was. She put her bandaged hand on Shaw's hip, guiding their motions, looking directly into one another's eyes, their mouths open, panting, breathing in one another's exhales.

Root felt the tidal wave cresting inside of her, and saw Shaw shaking above her. She could see that Shaw's eyes were screwing shut and with her bad arm she put a hand on Shaw's cheek. She was too close for the pain to matter, too hungry to see into Shaw's eyes. Shaw understood, her eyes opening, hazy as they darkly met Root's.

The sound that escaped from Root was too high, an accidental little whine of pleasure because she could see behind Shaw's eyes, the endless light behind them, and they fell over the edge together, still moving. Root could feel herself losing her rhythm, and Shaw faltered as well, groaning quietly from that deep place in her throat again. Shaw's head fell to Root's shoulder, burying into her neck so Root could feel the uneven breaths against her throat.

Finally, Shaw collapsed on top of Root, breathing heavily against Root's collar bone. Root moved her arm to drape around Shaw's waist, and smiled when she felt Shaw's lips press a kiss against her skin.

Shaw lifted her head again to kiss Root, her body weighing comfortably on Root's. She took Root's face in her hands and kissed her, long and slow, then rested her forehead against Root's.

"You alright?" Shaw asked, her voice low. Root smiled a little, licking her dry lips.

"Perfect," she replied. Shaw chuckled. They laid still for a minute, then Shaw reached down and pulled the blankets up and over them, settling back on top of Root's chest.

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><p>It took Root a while to realize that she'd fallen asleep in the quiet aftermath of their sex. She felt the heavy weight on her and thought it had to do with being shot. But then she realized that there was air being expelled, warm into the crook of her neck, and it occurred to her that the weight was Shaw's body, asleep on top of her, face nuzzling against Root's throat.<p>

She put a hand on Shaw's back and Shaw stirred.

Shaw stretched her arms out languidly, then stiffened, her whole perfect body going rigid against Root's as she tensed. Root thought briefly that Shaw was a bit like a cat. Really she was more like a panther. Silky dark hair and sleek muscle. Powerful. Shaw's body relaxed again and she propped herself up to look at Root. She looked a little surprised.

"I can't believe I fell asleep," Shaw said, her words muddled. Root put a hand on the back of Shaw's head, pulling her into a kiss. They were interrupted by Root's stomach, loudly grumbling. Shaw backed away, looking a little disappointed.

"Hungry?" Shaw asked jokingly as the grumbling continued. Root smirked back at her.

"Yeah, I think I worked up a bit of an appetite," she teased. Shaw shook her head, clearly amused, and kissed her again.

"I'll tell the guys to bring us food," Shaw said, starting to get up. Root's arm felt stiff as she reached for Shaw to stop her from leaving the warmth of the bed. Shaw raised an eyebrow again and smirked a little at her. Even as she said it, it looked like Shaw was surprised that the words were coming from her mouth when she said, "I'm coming right back."

She found the phone at the foot of the cot and came back, sitting down beside Root. She quickly typed a text and sent it, then turned to look at Root.

"I guess we're even now, from the other day when you said you owed me," Root said with a smirk, knowing Shaw wouldn't understand what she was talking about without the explanation. It still took a moment of thought for Shaw to get it, and then she looked up at the ceiling, her dark eyes on the pipes as the hint of a smile played on her lips.

"I don't think this really counts," she said. Root's eyebrows raised, knowing whatever Shaw said next was going to make her smile. "As your doctor, I'm supposed to do everything in my power to make you feel good. So… I was just doing my job."

Shaw looked at Root out of the corner of her eye and when they made eye contact they both grinned.

"I've never had a doctor who's so thorough," Root said, and Shaw turned to look at her and give her a sarcastic shrug, chewing on her lower lip. Then Shaw bent and kissed her again.

"If something's worth doing, it's worth doing right," Shaw said seductively, their mouths close.

"Subtle," Root teased, kissing her again.

The phone buzzed in Shaw's hand and she sat back up, reading the text. Her face immediately fell, and Root looked at her questioningly when she turned back to look at her.

"They're iall/i coming," Shaw said, disappointment and annoyance in her voice. Root's eyes narrowed, wondering what exactly Shaw meant.

"All of them?" she asked.

"John and Fusco are bringing a second cot. And Harold wants to bring Bear and the food," Shaw explained. "So yeah. All of them."

Root winced a little and sat up, her bandaged hand finding Shaw's bare back.

"Guess we should get up then," Root said quietly. Shaw nodded.

"Let's see what clothes of mine you can wear," she said, getting up.


	15. Chapter 15

I hope all of you have a Happy New Years! Thanks for continuing to give this story your time.

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><p>"You should wear these stupid things," Shaw said, chucking a lacy pair of underwear at the bed. It fell short and Root looked at the frilly garment dismissively.<p>

"No," she said with a smile. Shaw looked over at her, surprised at the short refusal.

"You want _me_ to wear them. And they're more up your alley than mine," Shaw said, incredulous.

"I know they are," Root said, getting up from the bed and crossing to Shaw, standing beside the stacks of clothes. Root picked up one of the pairs of underwear of the variety Shaw favored. Little black boy short briefs with a thick white band. Playfully, she stood too close to Shaw and said, "But I was hoping I could feel a little more like you."

Shaw scowled and looked like she was going to say no, but decided against it. When Root pulled them on, she could tell that Shaw appreciated the look, her dark eyes on Root's legs.

It took a bit of trial and error, but finally Root was dressed. They settled on a hooded jacket and a pair of Shaw's running shorts because all of Shaw's pants were too short for Root. Root watched Shaw pull on some pants and a shirt effortlessly and wished she could move smoothly like that. Every action she made seemed to require the aid of Shaw.

Shaw even helped set Root up in Finch's desk chair, draping a blanket over her bare legs. Root was still sitting there a while later, typing away on the keyboard while Shaw sat nearby. Root could feel Shaw's eyes on her, searching for something, and Root didn't know what it was that Shaw wanted to see. Every time she looked in Shaw's direction, the shorter woman looked away, pretending that her eyes hadn't been glued to Root.

They both turned when they heard the grunts of the boys coming down the stairs. Fusco and Reese rounded the corner carrying a mattress with a metal bed frame, still in a cardboard box to be assembled, stacked on top. Finch followed soon thereafter with a bag cradled against his chest and Bear on his lead, trying to keep the dog out of the way.

When Finch saw that Root was on his computer he visibly stiffened.

"It smells worse than the locker room at the police academy down here. You guys seriously need to consider a place with windows next time," Fusco said, breathing heavily as he dropped his end of the mattress. Root glanced Shaw's direction and almost caught her eye but Shaw looked like she was smirking a little, having just looked away to avoid making eye contact. Root knew they'd both been thinking that the smell of sex was probably still hanging heavy in the air. "What the hell is this place anyway?"

John gave Fusco a sidelong look. While Fusco was wiping his sweaty forehead on the sleeve of his suit coat, John simply gave each of his sleeves a tug to realign his shirt under his jacket after carrying the mattress.

"Maybe it should be your gym," John said, smirking at Fusco as the shorter man tried to regain his breath. "Shaw's got a whole training circuit set up."

"Yeah real funny," Fusco replied with annoyance. Harold had entered the subway car and was standing over Root at his computer, looking at the monitors pointedly. Shaw got up from the seat she'd been sitting in mounted inside the car and took a step towards Finch and Root. Root could see the anxiety and anger in Shaw's expression, her lips pursed a tiny bit.

"Miss Groves," Finch said by way of greeting, his eyes on the computer screen instead of her face. She smiled up at him, tilting her head to one side. Finally he looked down at her. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks for asking, Harry," Root said playfully. She could tell he was hoping for his chair to be empty, and waited a long couple of moments before she stood up, just making him wait.

When she did stand up, she winced in pain and Shaw's hands immediately found her good elbow and the small of her back, guiding her out of the chair. Root smiled down at her, knowing her eyes were probably betraying the pain she felt as well as the affection for Shaw at such an uncharacteristic action. Root wasn't the only one who noticed. Fusco was entering the car with his eyebrows raised. Shaw quickly dropped her hands to her sides as John came to the doorway and smirked at her.

Root moved out of Finch's way and sat down in the seat that Shaw had occupied before, still warm from her body. Shaw tried to pretend that she'd gone over to Finch and Root because Harold was holding the bag of food, but Root could tell that John had seen through it, leaning against the door frame with a smug expression on his face.

"What's for lunch, mom?" Shaw asked Finch gruffly. He gave her a disapproving look when she reached past him without waiting for a reply, taking the bag from his hand and opening it. She pulled out a large thermos and looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Coffee, as you requested," he said. "I wasn't sure how you take it, so I brought cream and sugar as well."

Shaw reached into the bag and found the little carton of half and half and some sugar packets, as well as cups. She turned to Root with the coffee and the blanket Root had on her lap before and handed her a cup, unscrewing the lid of the thermos to pour some for the wounded woman. As she held the styrofoam cup in her bandaged hand, Root felt grateful.

"Thanks," Root said quietly, touched when Shaw carefully added cream and sugar to Root's cup and even stirred the coffee for her, watching nervously as Root took a sip.

"Careful. Don't spill it. It's hot," Shaw said, her voice the usual grumble, but Root could see Shaw's eyes on her mouth and hands, worried that Root might drop it. Shaw carefully draped the blanket over Root's legs again.

"No offense Cocoa Puffs, but I like you being hurt. Looks like Sheena's feeling less murderous today," Fusco said, and Shaw turned and gave him a withering look. He fidgeted under her gaze and sat down in another of the chairs installed in the subway car. John crossed to Finch's desk and the bag of food. When he was close to Shaw, he leaned towards her playfully.

"He's right. You two are good for each other," John said, pulling Chinese food containers out of the bag. Shaw looked flustered and mad as she took one from him.

"I'm the only one who's got medical training," Shaw said, annoyed as she sat down in a chair far from Root's. Root couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Finch extended a box of food to Root and she took it, fumbling with the flimsy cardboard. She felt frustrated that she was having trouble with such a simple task. She could feel eyes on her, and when she looked up she caught Shaw watching her, sitting very still like she was waiting to see if Root was going to be able to eat.

"Coffee?" Finch asked Shaw, a cup outstretched to her.

"Right. Yeah, thanks," Shaw said, accepting the cup and putting it down without sipping it. Root had finally gotten the food open and took a fork that John extended to her. She could feel Shaw's eyes on her again when she awkwardly took a bite, the bandages on her knuckles making it hard and uncomfortable to use the fork.

"So what's the plan here? We gonna have family dinners down here like we're the British and it's world war two? I'm not crazy about waiting for some crazies crazier than you guys to come blow us all up," Fusco said.

"Lionel, you have such a way with words," Root said playfully. He looked annoyed that he was being made fun of, and Shaw smiled into her lo mein. Root felt her heart skip a beat knowing she'd made Shaw smile and Finch looked between them, judgement clear on his face.

"The plan is to keep saving the people we need to save, and wait for an opportunity to present itself so that we can stop these people from taking over," Finch explained, impatient. Bear was sniffing at Shaw's hands and she pat him on the head once, then told him to sit.

"Oh yeah? And what if an opportunity _doesn't_ present itself?" Fusco asked. John looked at Finch apologetically.

"He has a point," John said.

"Given that one of us is already bound to this subway station and another has been injured, I don't think it's the best idea to send you all out with guns blazing hoping to get results," Finch replied, annoyed. His words were clipped, his large eyes fixed uncomfortably on Fusco's face.

"What does She think?" Shaw interjected, looking directly at Root. Bear was putting his head on Shaw's lap, clearly upset that he was being ignored. Root raised her eyebrows a little as everyone looked over at her.

"I don't know," Root said. It hurt to admit it, but she hadn't heard anything from the Machine since she'd passed out in Shaw's apartment. Like she had disappointed the Machine, or failed Her.

"Who cares what she thinks? She just got herself shot, remember?" Fusco said. Everyone ignored the uninformed comment. Through a mouthful of food, he continued, "I'm just sayin' her plans didn't go so well last time."

"Hopefully she's learned from her mistakes," Finch said, his words short and enunciated, frustrated. Bear was curling up on top of Shaw's feet.

"Maybe you need to be up there to figure out what needs to be done?" John asked Root. Bear was giving up on Shaw and tried to sniff at Fusco's food but the big man pushed him away, holding his box of food up above his head.

"Maybe. I can go now and see what I can do," Root said, watching Fusco and choosing her words carefully to keep him in the dark about the Machine.

"No, you can't go up there," Shaw said. Finch and John joined Root in looking at Shaw. Once Fusco had gotten Bear to leave him alone he too looked over at her. Her voice angry, Shaw explained, her eyes only on Root, "You just got shot. You can barely get dressed by yourself, you're _not_ going up there. You'd be a sitting duck."

Root took a sip of coffee. Bear came and sat down on her feet now, his head resting on her knee. With the hand on the side where she'd been shot, she pet the top of his head gently, and he closed his eyes.

"I'll stay a day or two, but then I have to go up there. I have to help," Root said. She could tell that Shaw was angry with her but Root knew that Shaw understood it really was necessary. They ate the rest of the meal in virtual silence, Root catching Shaw looking at her a couple more times.

When they were done eating, Fusco left, telling John that if he didn't come back soon too there would be a lot of questions asked that Fusco wasn't going to make up answers to. John just smiled at him until he left in a huff.

"Should we put this cot together?" John asked Shaw. With clearly fake innocence he continued, "It seems like you did just fine without it last night. Did you sleep on the floor?"

Shaw's glare was venomous put John didn't seem to notice. Root got up from her chair and started picking up the remains of their meal and putting them back into the bag Finch had brought.

Shaw hadn't touched her coffee.

As Root went into the bathroom to pour it out, it occurred to her that Finch had said Shaw had explicitly requested the drink. But she hadn't consumed any of it. Root wasn't sure if Shaw had just changed her mind or if she'd asked for it because she'd seen Root drink coffee so often. The thought made her smile, and when she exited the bathroom she paused, watching Shaw stand with her hands on her hips, Bear sitting politely at her feet, while John held up two piece of metal.

Shaw seemed content to stand around without offering any assistance while John tried to muddle through the instructions to put the bed frame together.

Root went back into the subway car where Finch was working at the computer.

"I'm glad you're alright," he said without turning around when she entered behind him.

"Things are going to keep getting worse," she told him. He turned stiffly, looking over his shoulder at her.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, Miss Groves," he said. He looked away from her, back at his keyboard. "That's why I'm glad you're alright."

She stood in silence behind him for a minute. She felt awkward.

"Mr. Reese is going back to follow our number this afternoon. He has a meeting with some engineers whose last project involved designing server rooms on a container ship," Finch said, his words slow, the significance of his words obvious.

"He's working for Samaritan," Root said as it dawned on her what Finch meant, her stomach sinking. Things really were getting worse. Finch gave a little nod. "What are they building now?"

"We don't know yet. But we can only guess that they're expanding. Or building back-up servers so that if we were to destroy what they already have, they can move on to the next warehouse," Finch said. Root could tell he was worried.

"But if we can find out where the new warehouses are supposed to be built, we can stop them," Root said.

"That would only be temporary," Finch said.

"So what then?" Root asked. Finch took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the far wall, then he looked back at Root.

"Are you still in contact with your hackers?" Finch asked. He looked like he wanted to do something, _anything_ else, but he felt backed into a corner. Root's eyebrows pulled upward with worry. "I think we need to find out where the servers are and destroy them."

"They could be anywhere, Harold," Root said. "And as soon as we get rid of one, they're just going to make it harder to get rid of the next one."

"I know. We need to destroy them," Harold said, pausing because he had to take a breath to steady himself, seeming like he knew how futile this would be. "All of them, at the same time."

Root watched him purse his lips as he finished speaking.

"If it doesn't work, if they catch _one_ of us," Root said, swallowing hard, "They'll know to look for anything suspicious. And we'll _all_ die."

"That's right," Finch said. He looked terrified. Root looked away, out the window towards Reese and Shaw, who were struggling to connect a spring to the frame of the bed.

"Have they identified John? Or me?" She asked, realizing that after the previous day Samaritan could have gained quite a bit of intel.

"It doesn't appear that way," Finch told her. "They may have figured out who you were, but as long as the Machine can keep creating identities for you, that shouldn't be a problem."

"But Sameen… she has to stay here," Root said. It wasn't a question. They both knew that Shaw's incendiary tactics tended to get noticed anyway, but if Samaritan so much as recognized her for the briefest instant, all of the operatives all over the world, in every warehouse filled with servers, would be on high alert. Shaw's presence would put everyone in danger, all of the hackers they managed to convince to help would be killed.

"I know," Finch said. "She cannot find out what we're planning. She already tried to leave once. Luckily I had a taser on me; I thought she might do something like that eventually."

Root looked at her hands and felt tears burning her eyes. She blinked them away.

"Thank you for stopping her," Root said quietly, her words catching in her throat. Finch nodded, and when they made eye contact Root could see that Finch understood that there was a connection between Shaw and herself.

"As I said, Miss Shaw can't know of our plans," Finch said. Root nodded and watched as John dragged the mattress onto the newly constructed cot and then pushed it side by side with the one Root and Shaw had shared the night before. Root could see the smirk on John's face as he said something to Shaw and her expression darkened. She pushed the beds apart roughly, the metal frame hitting John's shins. He stepped backwards and continued to smile down at her despite her glare.


	16. Chapter 16

Harold left saying that he wouldn't be back for a few days. Root could tell that John knew as well as she did that Finch meant he was going to try to figure out where some of the other server locations were, following leads that likely would take him all over the world. This meant that John and Fusco would be in charge of bringing food to the subway station as well as anything else Shaw and Root (and Bear) might need.

Then John left too, saying that he had some work he had to take care of, and Shaw and Root were left by themselves again.

Bear was very obviously happy to see Shaw, and she changed into workout clothes to play fetch with the PVC pipe with him for quite a long time while Root sat using the laptop she'd brought for Shaw, reaching out to the men she'd gotten help when she was trying to implant the Machine's disguises for their little team into Samaritan's system. She had to admit that she didn't think that three extra guys was going to turn the tables on Samaritan's vast network, but Finch had asked her to contact them and as long as the Machine wasn't speaking to her, she figured she should listen to the next best thing.

She finished sending the last coded message and paused, looking in the direction that Shaw was. She'd sent Bear after a rat a minute ago, and Root now saw that Shaw was sitting with a smallish, open cardboard box a few feet in front of her, holding the deck of cards Finch had brought her. For a moment Root thought she was playing some sort of solitary card game. Instead, Shaw was throwing the cards, one at a time, towards the box. A few made it in, but the force Shaw was throwing the cards with meant that they caught some wind and drifted. When one missed, she looked at the card, flipping it over if necessary, and then quickly did some pushups.

The process was repeated a few more times and then Root got up and went over to Shaw.

"What's this? You found a new game?" Root asked playfully as Shaw threw another card. It made it into the box. Shaw looked up at her with a hint of annoyance. Another card left Shaw's hands. It fell face up, a nine of clubs.

"Something like that," Shaw said as she propped herself up on her hands and did nine pushups, speaking between each lift, "If I miss, I do the same number of pushups as the number on the card. Face cards are eleven."

"And how does one _win_ this game?" Root asked.

Shaw sat up and threw a few more and shook her head. "It's not about winning. I just keep going until I run out of cards."

"And that's supposed to be fun?" Root teased. Shaw put the deck down on the ground with more force than was necessary.

"Not really. It's just supposed to give me something to do," she said. Root could tell that Shaw was fed up with being in the subway station but was trying to be patient. "We should change your bandages again. It's been a while."

Shaw didn't speak much while she was cleaning the bullet wound, and Root could tell she was stewing. Then she had rewrapped them and went back to the box and cards to finish the deck. Once that was accomplished, she started running the station from end to end.

Root sat at the laptop again, but really she spent her time watching Shaw surreptitiously, the frustration building up in Shaw with each length of the platform that she ran. Bear ran with her, his tongue hanging happily out of his mouth.

Eventually Shaw slowed to a stop, sweat soaking through her shirt, her face beaded with perspiration.

"Why do you do that?" Root asked as she got up gingerly from the chair she had been sitting in, annoyed that Shaw was getting herself pissed off.

"Because I'm stuck in a subway station and I'm not going to waste away down here," Shaw said. She was obviously frustrated.

"I get that, but you're just making yourself mad," Root said, her voice light. She could see that Shaw was bristling with anger at the words. Shaw swiped at her forehead with the back of her forearm and looked away, so Root walked towards her to step into her line of vision again. "Things could be worse."

"I know," Shaw said, the words clipped. She was still avoiding Root's eyes but the taller woman could see that her expression had softened. Bear came and stood between them, his tail thwacking repeatedly against Root's leg as he looked up at Shaw with his ears perked up.

"You've got two of us to keep you company now, that has to count for something," Root said, trying to lighten Shaw's mood. Shaw rubbed behind Bear's ears as she looked up at Root with a smile that was almost sheepish.

"Definitely doesn't hurt," Shaw said, her voice low. Root stepped closer to Shaw, leaning over Bear to take Shaw's chin in her bandaged hand. She pulled Shaw's face to hers gently and kissed her. When it was clear that she was going to take her time, Bear scoot out from between them, annoyed that Shaw's hand had left his head and was instead on Root's waist.

Root kissed Shaw's neck, the soft spot beneath her ear, nipping her way down Shaw's throat. She could feel Shaw's hands tighten on her waist, a deep sigh giving away her pleasure under Root's teeth and tongue. Root could taste Shaw's sweat.

She broke away with a smirk and got a questioning look in response.

"You smell," Root teased. Shaw scowled, but Root could tell her heart wasn't in it. "John's supposed to be bringing dinner soon, so you should probably shower. Maybe a cold one?"

Shaw chuckled as she stepped away, running her hands over her face.

"You're such a fucking tease," she said with a grin. Root smiled back at her.

"I know," Root said playfully. Shaw shook her head as she walked away to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>John arrived while Shaw was still in the bathroom, carrying a mini fridge in his arms, a few plastic bags dangling heavily from his hands beneath the unwieldy device. Root turned in Finch's desk chair when she heard him approach and got up to help somehow.<p>

"I've got it. I don't want you to hurt your arm," John said as he put the mini fridge on the floor and plugged it in. "I brought some stuff in case Fusco and I get held up somewhere."

Reese held up a couple of bags. Root could see that there was a loaf of bread inside of one of them as he put it down in one of the chairs in the subway car, sorting through and putting some things inside of the fridge.

"It's not fancy, but it's better than nothing," he said apologetically. He lifted one of the remaining two bags. "I wasn't sure what to bring for dinner. But I thought Shaw might like barbecue?"

Root smiled at him conspiratorially.

"It's red meat that she can eat like an animal. I'm sure she loves barbecue," Root reassured him with her eyebrows raised. He smirked back at her and Root realized that for all the times she teased John for being Finch's pet, he wasn't all that bad. They actually could get along quite well if John didn't feel like he had to protect Finch.

"My thoughts exactly," he said. Then he reached into the last bag. "I also brought a couple bottles of wine. I thought that after spending as much time down here with her as you have, alcohol might be appreciated."

"Wine and barbecue. That may be a first for me," Root teased as John pulled out a bottle.

"At least it's red wine to go with our red meat. I always pair my wines correctly," he joked. He pulled out some paper cups and handed them to her.

"Oh, _now_ it's a classy party," Root said sarcastically, taking the cups and putting them on the table.

"I tried," he said. He genuinely seemed like he wished he knew what else to do. Root was familiar with his position, wondering what to bring to the station to make it less of a prison, and she felt sorry for him.

"I know. Thanks," Root told him, trying to reassure him.

"Call it a housewarming gift for you two," he said with a knowing smirk, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. Root smirked back but didn't reply.

It was then that Shaw emerged from the bathroom casually, the towel loosely wrapped around her naked body. When she saw John with Root she tightened the grey cloth around herself and walked brusquely to her stacks of clothes to find something to put on. John quickly looked away from Shaw, but Root let her eyes linger on Shaw's bare legs when she bent over the clothes to find something. When Shaw stood up and stalked back towards the bathroom, Root looked away and realized that John had been watching her and was smirking at her again, even wider this time.

They sat in silence, Root noticing that John looked tired and a little sullen, until Shaw emerged dressed in pants and a long-sleeved shirt, her hair still damp.

She entered the subway car and Bear got up to greet her.

"I brought barbecue," John said, handing her a sandwich wrapped in paper. Root watched Shaw's eyes light up. "I didn't know what sort of sides you'd want so I got a bunch of different things. You've got a fridge now so if it doesn't all get eaten you can keep some."

She sat down in one of the chairs and told Bear to go to his bed, which he did mournfully.

"I'll be back tomorrow. I can bring coffee and breakfast if you let me know what to get," Reese said, getting up and looking like he was getting ready to leave. He reached into the bag of food and took a sandwich.

"You should stay," Root said. She wasn't sure why she'd said it. Maybe it was because he looked like he didn't really _want_ to leave. He seemed to have enjoyed joking around with Root, and thinking of him going back to his empty apartment by himself to eat a lukewarm sandwich made her feel sorry for him. She looked up and saw that Shaw was looking at her incredulously.

"It's ok, you ladies have a good night," he said. She was surprised at how unconvincing he was. He seemed grateful that she'd asked him to stay.

"Stay," Root told him firmly. She picked up the paper cups. "I wouldn't want you to miss your wine and barbecue pairing."

John smiled, looking at Bear who was gazing up at him with doleful eyes. John's eyes then found Shaw's, who was just curious to see if he'd stay at this point, then back to Root, who smiled at him.

"Ok," he said, putting the sandwich down and removing his suit coat. Root nodded and handed him one of the bottles of wine to open, then carefully removed the side dishes from the bag. Shaw had already unwrapped her sandwich and was taking over-sized bites.

"This is awesome," Shaw said through a mouthful of food, barbecue sauce already smeared on her lips. Her tone was as if she couldn't believe how good the food was. John and Root exchanged a smile because their prediction had been so right. John handed her a paper cup full of wine and she took it with one messy hand.

Root received the next cup from him and took a sip before putting it down and taking the lids off some of the side dishes Reese had brought. The bandages on her hand were less cumbersome now than they had been earlier, but when she moved the arm that had been shot, it still sent a sharp pain through her. She looked up and saw that Shaw's eyes were on her, dark and attentive. She noticed immediately when Root went to unwrap her sandwich and flinched a little. Shaw swallowed her food.

"Want some help?" Shaw asked, reaching out for Root's sandwich. Root handed it to her and let her unwrap it for her, handing it back. Shaw didn't catch the smug little smirk on John's face because he took a sip of his wine to hide his face.

Shaw ate ravenously while Root and John took their time. After she quickly finished her sandwich, Shaw moved onto sides, digging in with a fork as if she hadn't eaten for days. Finally, they'd all been satiated, Shaw eating the last piece of cornbread available and sucking her fingers clean with the relish of a lion grooming itself after devouring its kill. John gave Bear some dog food from one of the bags he'd brought and then sipped at his wine, slumping comfortably into his seat.

"We should play poker," Shaw said. Root smiled over at her affectionately. While it was far from appetizing to watch Shaw devour her food with gusto, it was also charming to see her unabashedly enjoying something so much. In a lot of ways, Shaw wasn't as complicated as everyone liked to think. Food and sex. It seemed like Shaw didn't need much else to be happy.

"I'm in," Reese said, finishing his cup of wine and opening the second bottle. He poured some into his paper cup and swirled it around. Root sniffed a laugh at him, her eyebrows raised. He smiled back at her, and then said sarcastically, "I'm letting it breath."

"In a paper cup," Root mocked him.

"That's right. In a paper cup," he repeated, taking a sip and grinning at her. Shaw got up.

"Well aren't you two just the best of pals," Shaw grumbled as she went to get the cards. John got up from his chair, picked up the bottle, and followed her towards the cots. Root followed and saw that Shaw was settling heavily onto one of the little mattresses, dragging the chair nearby between them.

She motioned for John to sit on the other mattress.

"We don't have a table. We're using this," Shaw said, slapping her palm against the seat of the chair.

"Note to self, bring a table," John said light-heartedly as he sat down on the bed, rolling up his sleeves. Shaw was already shuffling the cards when Root reached the beds, and she hesitated. She wasn't sure if Shaw would be thrilled with her sitting right next to her with John there. She watched John stretch his arms out, smirking at her as if to say '_I take up so much space, you're going to want to sit over there_' and she shook her head at how silly he was being. It was unlike him to act this way.

Root wondered if this meant they were friends. She wasn't used to feeling like she had _friends_.

"We don't have chips," Root said. Shaw shrugged.

"So we play for imaginary points," she said with a smile.

"Sounds about right," John said, taking a sip of wine.

Root sat down beside Shaw, who didn't seem to mind that they were so close together. She glanced over at Root and put down the cards when she saw that the taller woman was holding her arm against her stomach gingerly.

"You ok?" she asked, concern in her voice. Root nodded.

"I haven't taken any pain meds since this morning. I must have a good doctor," Root said playfully, wrapping her bad arm around her leg as she pulled it up to her chest. The station's floor was cold under her bare feet and since she was only wearing shorts she was chilly. Shaw tried her best to stop herself from smiling, taking a drink from her cup, but Root could see the dimple in her cheek and the flash in her eye. It was hard for Root to tear her eyes from Shaw's face to look at John again, who had picked up the deck and was shuffling it.

He dealt the cards and they started to play.

It was fun to play with these two, Root decided. They were all quite good at bluffing, and they were all savvy when it came to playing poker. Had they been playing sober, they'd have picked up on each others tells and they probably would have gotten increasingly quick to know who had a good or bad hand, but they weren't playing sober for very long.

It wasn't all that long before they'd finished the second bottle of wine and Shaw had gone to get the third, uncorking it as she approached the beds, pouring a generous amount into John's cup before settling back on the bed. Bear followed her over from the subway car and jumped onto the bed with John, curling up with his head on John's leg. While John was petting the dog, Shaw poured more wine into Root's cup.

Root saw Shaw's eyes on her legs and smiled, intentionally bumping her knee against Shaw's. Shaw's eyes immediately met Root's. Then Shaw reached behind herself and grabbed the blanket that Root had used earlier in the day to keep warm and pulled it clumsily over Root's lap.

"You look cold," Shaw mumbled, still trying to get the blanket to lay correctly over Root's legs to keep her warm. Root smirked and leaned close to Shaw's ear.

"I can always count on you to warm me up," she whispered, her cold fingertips finding the bare skin at the small of Shaw's back where there was a gap between her pants and her shirt. Shaw sat up quickly. Her eyes looked dark, her pupils were dilated, and her cheeks were the slightest bit flushed. She looked over at John, but Reese was very deliberately talking to Bear and giving him an undue amount of attention.

"Should we uh, keep playing?" Shaw asked, her voice a little higher than usual. John nodded in agreement, and the game continued a little longer. But Shaw wasn't really paying any attention anymore. Root kept catching Shaw looking at her mouth when she should have been looking at what cards had been dealt. Shaw had been doing pretty well before, but she wasn't winning a single hand now.

"What's your move, Shaw?" John asked, and Sameen tore her eyes from Root's face to look at him, confused.

"Hm?" she asked.

"Do you call, raise or fold?" he asked. She barely glanced at her cards, shrugging.

"Call," she said without any commitment. He chuckled and shook his head, causing her to ask, "What?"

He flipped over his cards and revealed a four of a kind, jacks. Root had already folded, acutely aware that John had a pretty good hand and was confident he would win. Shaw showed her hand and it seemed to dawn on her that she had done very poorly. She had a pair of eights.

Shaw looked perplexed by her own bad hand.

"I think you need to spend less time looking at Root, and a little more time looking at your hand," John teased. Root could see that Shaw was immediately pissed.

"Let's play something else," Root said, putting her hand on Shaw's knee, hoping to interrupt them from starting to fight because she knew the expression on Shaw's face, the dark anger, and she didn't want to end the night with an explosion. Shaw's eyes looked down at Root's hand on her knee, the thumb moving back and forth, and she chewed on her bottom lip.

"We should play Never Have I Ever," John said after a moment of contemplation. Root shook her head.

"What's that?" she asked. Shaw looked at her skeptically, not believing Root really didn't know the game (she didn't), and when their eyes met Root could see Shaw's jaw tighten to try to stop herself from smiling a little. Root removed her hand from Shaw's leg and Shaw seemed to miss the contact. She put her hand against the mattress behind her and leaned her weight onto it so that she was in Root's space a little more than necessary.

"It's a game. You say something you've never done, and if the others have, they drink. If they haven't, they don't drink. If you say something you haven't done and neither of us have done it either, _you_ have to drink," John explained.

"I haven't played with that last rule," Shaw said, almost scolding him.

"Well I suggested it, so we play my way," Reese said smugly. Shaw shrugged.

"Whatever," she said. She tilted her chin up at Root, "You should go first."

"I've never… played this game?" Root said a little uncertainly. Shaw rolled her eyes and took a drink. John drank as well and pointed at Shaw for her to take a turn.

She thought for a second.

"Never have I ever sleep walked. Slept walked? Walked in my sleep?" Shaw fumbled for the best way to phrase her answer.

"Nope," Root said.

"Me neither," John said. "So you drink."

Shaw sighed and took another drink.

"Never have I ever been to Disney World," John said, clearly thinking he would get one of them to drink. No one did. "Go figure, we _all_ missed out on that childhood dream."

Shaw chuckled as he drank from his cup. Root had been thinking about her turn while the others were going, so it didn't take her long to think of something.

"I've never worked for the government," she said. With a smirk, she added, "Not without falsifying documents, anyway."

John and Shaw both drank, then Shaw looked at the ceiling, swirling her wine in the cup as she thought.

"Never have I ever been to a wedding," Shaw said. Root shook her head, and John drank.

"You've _never_ been to a wedding? Neither of you?" He asked incredulously.

"I was always a little low on friends," Root joked.

"That makes two of us," Shaw said gruffly, holding her cup up for Root to tap hers against in a cheers.

"I've never smoked marijuana," John said.

"Yeah right," Shaw said, disbelieving, leaning forward some so that her shoulder brushed Root's.

"I haven't!" John said defensively.

"He _is_ Harold's Boy Wonder. And Mr. Military. _And_ he just called it marijuana," Root joked. Shaw still looked like she didn't believe him but took a sip of her wine. Root did the same. Shaw and John both looked at her while she tried to think of something else. It took a minute.

"I've never had an STD," Root said. Neither Shaw nor John drank. "We're quite the safe little trio."

She took a drink from her cup, surprised that it was almost empty. Shaw had just emptied hers as well and poured herself more, then offered to give Root more as well. Root extended her cup and Shaw filled it, then handed the bottle across the John. He poured the rest of the wine into his cup while Shaw spoke.

"I've never run away," Shaw said. Root felt her heart sink and she drank, her eyes on the floor. John took a drink too. Shaw seemed to realize she'd gotten too dark and looked up at Root apologetically.

"Never have I ever had a fake ID," John said. Root and Shaw both scoffed and John reworded it. "I mean as a minor, for alcohol or cigarettes or whatever."

Shaw shrugged.

"Me neither," she said, looking over at Root. Root smirked and took a drink, causing Shaw to raise her eyebrows. "Wouldn't have pegged you as _that_ girl."

"I definitely wasn't. It was the exact same kind of things we do now, except I was by myself and a teenager," Root said. Understanding dawned on Shaw's face as well as admiration.

"Badass," she said appreciatively. Root smiled playfully, then thought again about what to say next.

"I'm running out of ideas," Root said. Shaw nodded in agreement. After some thought, Root finally settled on one.

"I've never been a girl scout. Or a boy scout," Root said. John drank right away and Root laughed at him. She almost missed that Shaw took a discreet sip, but John pointed at the shorter woman with mirth in his eyes.

"You're joking," Root said, unable to contain her surprise and disbelief. Shaw fidgeted.

"My mom thought it would help build character," she growled.

"How'd that work out?" John teased, and Shaw sneered at him. After a beat, she came up with her own turn.

"I've never had a pregnancy scare, or had the person I was with have a pregnancy scare," Shaw said. John and Root both shook their heads. "We really _are_ safe. Who knew."

John thought for a minute, sipping at his wine.

"Come on, we haven't got all day," Shaw said, a little more annoyed than was necessary.

"Haven't we? The last time I checked, we were pretty much _made_ of time," Root joked. Shaw took a deep breath.

"Don't remind me," she mumbled.

John looked like he'd thought of something, a little smirk on his face, and Shaw gave him a frustrated look.

"Yes?" she asked. He sipped his wine.

"I've never slept with a man," he said. Root and Shaw both rolled their eyes and drank. Root wasn't sure why he still looked so smug, but it was her turn again and she had to stop thinking about John to try to think of another thing to say to get the other two to drink. She could feel Shaw's eyes on her, and glanced over apologetically.

"I'm trying," she said, and watched Shaw take a deep breath, her eyes settling with laser focus on Root's lips. Root bit her lip as if in thought, just to watch Shaw's eyebrows raise a tiny bit, her lips parting like it was taking everything in her not to close the distance between them and kiss Root. Root looked over at John again, who was looking at the ceiling with an enormous grin on his face.

"What?" Shaw asked aggressively. She'd followed Root's gaze to John. He looked at Root, then at Shaw.

"It's enlightening that my turn didn't present a pretty obvious follow-up," he said. Root saw immediately that he meant Root hadn't responded that she'd never slept with a woman. She looked at Shaw, watching her foggy brain's gears turn and suddenly catch, understanding and anger darkening her expression. Root put her hand on Shaw's knee again so both she and John would look at her. Once she'd gotten their attention, she smirked like she'd known all along that this was the game.

"It doesn't mean I've slept with _Sam_," Root lied easily, smiling playfully. Then, as if she were revealing a big joke of a secret, she continued. "But you're right. I _have_ slept with women."

John didn't look the least bit surprised. He simply looked like he wasn't sure if he should believe that Root and Shaw hadn't slept together. He seemed to settle on disbelief, his eyes meaningfully hovering on Root's hand on Shaw's knee. He finished his cup of wine and stood up.

"On that note, I think it's time for me to go," he said, rolling his sleeves back down and retrieving his suit coat from the subway car.

"I'll bring some breakfast by on my way to work," John said. "Anything in particular you need?"

Shaw's eyes were on Root, a mix of desire and uncertainty, but she forced herself to turn and look at Reese and shake her head. Root looked past Shaw at John.

"No, nothing I can think of," she said, her tone as lighthearted as ever. He nodded heavily as he pulled on his jacket.

"Drink some water before you uh, get into bed," John suggested with a little smirk. Shaw narrowed her eyes at him disapprovingly, but Root just smiled back at him. Shaw stood up to push the chair out from between the beds, making busy work for herself, and Root could have sworn that Reese winked at her before turning and walking up the steps.

Shaw had gone off towards the bathroom and returned with cups of water for herself and for Root, faintly tinted red because she'd used the same paper cups that they'd just finished drinking wine from. She sat on the cot that John had occupied and drank her cup quickly, watching Root do the same. Once Root had finished, she and Shaw looked at one another for a long couple of seconds across the gap between the beds. Root could see Shaw's eyes were dark, licking her lips unconsciously, fidgeting like she was a race horse standing at the starting gate, and it made Root wonder if Shaw was waiting for some sort of cue to know it was ok for her to kiss Root.

Right when Root had decided that she would make the first move, Shaw got up suddenly and closed the distance in one fluid motion, her mouth finding Root's, urgent and desperate.


	17. Chapter 17

Shaw's kiss was ravenous at first, but she quickly slowed. Eventually, she pulled her head back and looked at Root. Her eyes followed her hand as her fingers traced the bridge of Root's nose, her eyebrows, her jaw, her lips.

"Can I ask you something?" Shaw asked as her fingers closed into a fist and she sat back, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Root's eyebrows raised microscopically, worried because she could see that Shaw was.

"Anything you want," Root said, wishing that her body and brain would stop thrumming for a moment so she could think straight. She didn't drink often; it made her feel vulnerable. She hoped she sounded as airy and unconcerned as usual.

"Are you…" Shaw hesitated, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth. It was unlike her to hesitate, and that made Root very curious about what she was trying to get out. Then Shaw rearranged her expression so she looked bored and irritated, summoning courage from the alcohol. "So you uh… play for both teams?"

Root realized what she was being asked and smiled. She didn't know why this would cause Shaw so much anxiety.

"I don't care much about labeling myself as one thing or another," she said. Annoyance darkened Shaw's face at the cop-out answer. Root wrinkled her nose a little and then continued. "But no, I wouldn't say I'm bisexual. Obviously, I'd do anything to complete a mission for Her, but I don't count that."

Shaw looked perturbed, and Root wondered why Shaw was bothered by what she'd said.

"You've never slept with someone because it was the most efficient way to get what you wanted?" Root asked with disdain. Shaw's anger was clear, but beneath that, Root could tell she was hurt, even as her eyebrows pulled together in frustration.

"So this," Shaw started, motioning with one hand between them, and then stopped, licking her lips and looking away, her expression faltering for a moment so that Root caught the anxiety in her very clearly although it was quickly masked again by anger. "This is about efficiency."

It wasn't phrased as a question, but Root could see that that's what it was.

"What are you talking about?" Root asked, confused, but starting to see where Shaw was going with this. She was trying to define their relationship. Or whatever it was that they were doing.

"It's fine. It doesn't matter. I'm not gonna listen to break-up songs or anything," Shaw said, her words like gravel in her throat. Playing tough. "I just want to make sure we understand each other."

Root was angry and surprised. Annoyed that they were talking about this, after the last few days had made her feel like they were close. Closer than she'd been to anyone in as long as she could remember.

"If _that's_ what you think, then we definitely _don't_ understand each other," she said finally, her eyebrows pulling upwards. She felt like she'd been sucker-punched, her gut heaving like she might be sick. She couldn't believe Shaw was so dense.

Root could tell that Shaw wasn't getting it, and wasn't sure if it was because Shaw had had too much to drink or if it was because Sameen didn't know how to accept that someone could _care_ about her. And that she could care about someone in return. Root felt her chest tighten painfully, so wracked with sadness and affection that she was worried she might cry. Because she knew deep down that Shaw _did_ care about her.

"I meant that I sleep with _men_ for the sake of efficiency, first of all," Root said, her words terse, her voice unsteady. Shaw thought about this for a moment and Root could see the exact point when Shaw's expression shifted and she realized that Root hadn't been saying she was straight, she was saying she was _gay_.

"And second," Root said, "_This_…"

Root mimicked the gesture Shaw had made between them, and felt her lower lip tremble. She wanted to finish but wasn't sure what she wanted to say. She wasn't sure if she was more furious or hurt. And anyway, she had to pause because her throat felt so tight she was afraid she was going to sob if she spoke any more. Her eyes met Shaw's, darkness connecting with darkness, and she could see that Shaw's eyes were shining. Root tried to swallow the lump in her throat but couldn't. She opened her mouth and closed it again, her heart racing.

In the back of her mind, Root wondered if this might be the start of a panic attack.

Shaw opened her mouth as if she was going to say something. But then, instead of speaking, she reached out and took Root's face in her hands gently, pulling them together again and kissing her, lips soft. Not insistent. An apology. Like she was asking for forgiveness, and this was the only way she knew how.

Shaw's palms were warm on Root's cheeks, cradling her head between her fingers. Root immediately felt the panic in her throat dissipate, the sensation that she was being strangled lessening with every gentle movement of Shaw's mouth on her own.

She tasted like wine.

Root wondered fleetingly if she should stop Shaw, finish their conversation. But then she realized that she didn't _want_ to finish the conversation. She didn't want to allow Shaw the opportunity to tell her she didn't think they should do this anymore.

And she knew that Shaw didn't want to talk either. Not really. Yes, she'd brought this up, but she'd also effectively maneuvered the conversation from words into actions. Shaw didn't talk about her emotions. Root doubted she knew how. This, kissing, Shaw's hands reassuring on either side of her face, was as close as Shaw was willing to get to admitting she had feelings.

As tenderly as her alcohol-induced daze allowed, Shaw laid Root back against the pillows. Root felt fragile and embarrassed when she winced, her shot arm crumpling under her weight when she tried to lean against it. Shaw noticed and tried to back away to let Root move past the pain, but Root took hold of her with her bandaged hand and pulled them together, kissing her again. Shaw accepted the action gladly.

Root wanted to be on top of Shaw, to push her into the pillows and put her mouth on every inch of Shaw's body, wanted to press her fingers into Shaw's skin hard enough to bruise her. How could she not know that Root cared about her? How could Shaw be so stupid? Root hated that her arm hurt and she couldn't possibly hold herself up to do the things she wanted to do. But she did what she could; holding onto Shaw with her good arm, her bandaged fingers tight on the back of Shaw's neck.

She could feel the muscles in Shaw's shoulders moving as she tried not to let her weight crush Root. Root didn't want that distance, she wanted their bodies connected. Wanted as much contact as she could get. She arched up into Shaw, pulling the weight of her body up off the bed with her arm around Sameen's shoulders, trying to force the shorter woman to relax her body into Root's. Shaw finally gave in, their chests pressing together hard.

Then Shaw's hands slid under Root's shirt and up her sides, fingers spread to touch as much skin as possible, and Root kicked the blanket from between them. Shaw pushed herself up to pull Root's shirt off, forgetting for a wine-fogged moment that Root's arm was still quite sore. When Root flinched, Shaw shifted and kissed the inside of Root's upper arm, cradling the bandaged elbow in her hands.

Root reached over Shaw's head to her shoulders, taking a fistful of her shirt and pulling it upwards to get her to take it off. Shaw did, tearing the shirt off over her head and dropping it to the side as fast as she could, then closed the gap between them again. Root wasn't able to catch a glimpse of Shaw's face before she dipped her head to kiss Root's chest, the same bra she'd worn yesterday and the day before. Root tried to pull Shaw up to look into her eyes again but Shaw buried her face against Root's shoulder, pressing a hard kiss against Root's throat.

Root firmly put her hand on the back of Shaw's neck, pulling away from the darker woman, demanding she look at her. When Sameen finally looked her in the eye, she looked _happy_. That wasn't what Root had expected at all. She gave Sameen a questioning look and she watched Shaw cautiously smile back at her, her closed lips both pleased and a little sad simultaneously. And bashful? Shaw tipped her head down and kissed Root again, hesitant. Root stopped her, wanting to address the abrupt change.

But she still didn't know what to say. And she wasn't sure what response she was hoping for. Because again, she _didn't_ want to talk about it. She just knew that they should. Part of her wanted desperately for Shaw to understand that she cared for her, deeply, and she didn't know if Shaw really knew that despite everything that had happened between them.

Shaw's smile faltered and her eyebrows pulled together a tiny bit.

"Not tonight," she pleaded, her words slurring together a little. Root thought to herself that come morning, when Shaw wasn't drunk and horny, they might have to actually discuss whatever this was. This might be the last time she got to kiss and touch and hold Sameen. And maybe that would be for the best, because there was no future that Root could see where they ended up together. That wasn't how either one of them operated, and that didn't seem plausible with each day seeming to bring them closer to the destruction of the Machine and everything else.

But for now, Root wanted to forget about all of that. Just for the night.

She pulled Shaw's mouth to hers again, and Shaw grabbed at Root's hips, one hand making its way under Root, scrambling for traction on the slick running shorts. When her fingers slipped, unable to pull Root to her as tightly as she wanted to, Shaw pulled the shorts down, leaning back to look at Root in the underwear that she'd chosen earlier.

Root could see the look of pleasure emerging in Shaw's features again, uninhibited and adoring as she ran her hands from Root's knees up her thighs to the boxer briefs. Root watched the hint of a smile on her lips, the bright desire in the dark eyes that moved over Root's body like they were reading a map, trying to memorize the hills and valleys.

Root wanted to reach out to her, to hold them together and kiss that smiling mouth. She didn't have the chance to so much as extend her hand. Sameen had met her gaze and moved up her body quickly, their lips coming together.

Blindly, Root fumbled with the button on Shaw's pants, her bandaged hand and the wine making her clumsy but Shaw offered no assistance. It took Root a minute, but finally she succeeded and tried to push the pants down off of Shaw's hips. When she couldn't get them off of Shaw, struggling against the fabric, Root abandoned her attempts and instead pushed her hand in the back of Shaw's pants, pulling her close when Shaw pressed her pelvis into Root's, their legs interlocking.

Shaw reached around to Root's back and her fingers were rough against Root's spine as she fought the clasp of Root's bra. Root could feel Shaw's frustration in her kiss, their teeth connecting hard, then those straight white teeth closed on Root's bottom lip. Her bra fell away, and Shaw quickly followed it with her own, then shoved her pants down her legs with frantic energy, scrambling to get rid of their underwear with Root trying to help, her bandaged hand not as nimble as Shaw's. Shaw moved back to grind against Root.

The pleasure of the contact made Root's eyes press shut and she sank her teeth into Shaw's shoulder, clinging to her. She could feel the heat of Shaw's body on her, falling into a perfect rhythm. Shaw's breathing was heavy against Root's temple as they moved together, Root's wounded hand on Shaw's hip to keep the contact just there. Puzzle pieces. Cut to fit together.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, she'd lost all sense of seconds or minutes or hours with Shaw's hands and mouth on her, her own mouth and her hand on Shaw.

Shaw's hips bucked and faltered before Root's. Root watched Shaw's jaw clenching, her breaths bursting out from between her grinding teeth. Root kept moving, clutching Shaw against her because she was so close to joining Shaw. The muscles in Shaw's forehead pulled, her eyes shut, her chest and back tightening desperately, and Root saw and felt all of it. But it was the look in Shaw's eyes when she opened them and looked into Root's that sent Root careening over the edge. Like Root was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like- like something that Root didn't have a name for. Those eyes so dark and big and full of something sweet and affectionate and caring.

Root forced her eyes to stay open while she fell apart under Shaw's body.

She didn't want to miss a single moment of the look that Shaw was giving her. Hopeful and afraid. Tonight, they were ok. More than ok.

Root kissed Shaw when she could breath again, her hand on Shaw's face, the tape on her hand catching in Shaw's hair and she had to pull it loose but immediately found Shaw's cheek again. With sore fingers she caressed Sameen, elated every time their eyes met and Sameen's look poured into her heart like a waterfall and she could feel that warm delight in her chest, expanding until she was full to bursting.

Sameen carefully lifted herself off of Root's chest, laying shoulder to shoulder with her on the tiny mattress, her breathing still heavy. But Root didn't want to be apart from Shaw. If this was the last time she would get to lay with Shaw, she wanted to be _with_ her, fully. She didn't care about Shaw's dislike of cuddling. She didn't care about her wounded arm.

She rolled on top of Shaw and was a little surprised when Shaw just kissed her fondly and put her arms around Root's body, cradling Root on top of her bare chest.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for reviewing and favoriting and following this story, guys! It makes my day to see the positive feedback. I hope you'll keep reading now that Person of Interest is returning tonight! I've got more of this story to tell, and I hope you guys are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

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><p>Root wasn't sure what had awoken her. She was still tucked heavily on top of Sameen, and before she had remembered the uncertainty of the future of their situation, she was placing a kiss on that perfect collar bone. Sameen started to stir, and her hands moved from Root's back down her spine, Root's skin cold because they'd fallen asleep without the blanket. Sleepily, Sameen's fingers cupped the curve of Root's ass, pulling her closer. Root placed a trail of kisses from Sameen's collar bone to her neck, and Sameen, eyes still closed, turned her head and pursed her lips a little, asking without words for Root to kiss her. Root did, and delighted in the low groan of pleasure that rumbled deep in Sameen's throat when Root pulled her full lower lip into her mouth.<p>

Something made a noise from the direction of the subway car.

A footstep.

Root froze, a chill of fear shooting up her back and paralyzing her. Shaw's hands gripped Root's biceps, hard, then she was suddenly in motion, flipping Root over effortlessly. Root gasped in pain when she caught some weight with her wounded arm, tucking it to her chest as she scrambled to get up.

"Stay behind me," Shaw growled, looking directly into Root's eyes commandingly, and Root could see fear in the darkness. Shaw reached one arm under the edge of the flimsy mattress near the pillow and emerged with a folding knife that she flipped open with a single fluid flick of the wrist as she rounded on the intruder. She reached back with her free hand, pushing Root to keep her squarely behind her on the bed, then she seemed to grow with adrenaline, arms out, fists tight, shoulders back like an animal puffing up its chest to look bigger than it really was, her legs and feet already under her like she was preparing to launch herself at the assailant. It had been mere seconds since they were kissing sleepily, and Shaw was already in full battle mode.

Root couldn't see past Shaw because the shorter woman's posture was so effectively blocking her. She could only see Shaw's ribcage expanding and contracting with big deep breaths, her muscles tight and strong under her brown skin.

Then, as suddenly as Sameen had leapt into action, her body both a weapon and a shield, she relaxed again, her muscles loosening, arms dropping some. She sat down on the bed, her back bumping Root's knees, which she'd tucked up to her chest in a feeble attempt to protect herself. Shaw closed the knife again and crossed her arms over her knees as she sat back, still keeping her body fully between Root and the source of the noise.

"Good morning to you too."

It was Reese's voice, tired but tinged with amusement. Root peered past Shaw's shoulder and saw him, looking apologetic and worn out. He was holding a cardboard sleeve with some to-go coffee cups in it and a paper bag, the top folded down.

"I'll trade you," he joked, holding the food out like a peace offering. Even as sleep-deprived as he was, he still looked very put-together in his suit, ready to work.

"Damn it, Reese, you almost gave me a heart attack," Shaw said, her voice hoarse in her throat. She dropped the closed knife onto the bed and leaned her weight back against Root's legs, rubbing her face with her hands.

Root could see that Reese was looking at his wrist watch.

"You didn't look scared to me," John joked. "Although I have to say, getting into a knife fight when you're naked? Not _particularly_ smart."

He made eye contact with Root since Sameen still had her hands over her face, trying to calm herself down. Root could see the little smirk on John's face, the triumphant gleam in his eyes that said he knew he'd been right the night before. Root felt anxious under his gaze. It wasn't that he was doing anything untoward; he stayed far from the bed and was only looking at Root's eyes. No, she was anxious because it hadn't really occurred to her that she should be worried about someone finding the subway station. Sameen, on the other hand, had been ready. It seemed like she was probably just waiting for something to happen. It made Root wonder if they should arm Shaw with more than the knife she'd been hiding. There hadn't seemed to be a reason before, but now Root saw how stupid it was to think that way.

Root felt her stomach churn unpleasantly from the over-indulgence in wine. She hadn't noticed when she was still half-asleep, but now that she'd been jerked around, she couldn't avoid the discomfort of both her slight hangover and the nagging remembrance of the exchange she and Sameen had shared. The anxiety crept over her body, taking hold of her gut.

"I brought you some bagels with eggs and sausage. I needed something heavy after last night, figured you might as well," John said, turning and heading into the subway car. Root could hear dog food rattling into Bear's metal bowl.

Shaw uncovered her face, one hand dropping to her side, fingers curling around Root's cold foot, close to Shaw's hip since the shorter woman was still leaning against Root's shins.

They sat silently for a minute, then John reappeared.

"I may not be able to make it back here at lunch time, but Fusco or I will bring you dinner," John told them, his eyes on the open doorway of the subway car. Bear followed him out onto the platform, licking his chops contentedly. "I'll take Bear too, if you don't mind."

"They let you bring him to the station?" Root asked. Shaw's thumb gently rubbed the top of Root's foot where she was cradling it in her hand. Even if John had been looking at them, the action was hidden from his view by their bodies.

"No," John said simply, kneeling to put the leash on Bear. "I'm not going to the station today."

"Where are you going?" Shaw asked, perking up with interest. John stood up and looked at them over his shoulder as he turned to head up the stairs. Root hunched her shoulders subconsciously, feeling very exposed even though he could really only see her knees and her face because of her wounded arm on her chest and Shaw's torso. She was still very deliberately keeping her body in front of Root's, unabashed in her own nudity but seeming determined to keep Root from John's eyes.

"I've got some other business to take care of," he replied cryptically. He turned his head back away from them. "Root, do you want me to get some of your clothes from… wherever it is you live?"

Root didn't want to tell him that she didn't really have a place that she regularly returned to- the Machine tended to provide her with information on where to sleep on any given night. And if She didn't, Root was resourceful. So she didn't really have a closet full of clothes somewhere; the Machine took care of her outfits for her, finding ways to deliver the appropriate attire for any given cover. The Machine hadn't given her any sign that She was there since She'd led Root to Shaw's apartment. Root had been avoiding thinking about that.

But now, there was a familiar voice in her ear. Root shuddered a sigh of relief as she listened to Her.

"Tell Fusco that the laundry that was delivered to his place is for me," Root said once the Machine was finished giving her instructions. She felt more self-assured than she had in days. John gave a sidelong glance over his shoulder.

"Sorry I walked in on you," he said after a beat.

Then he was walking up the stairs with his cup of coffee in one hand and Bear's lead in the other.

"Your secret's safe with me," he said when he was out of sight, his last words echoing in the stairwell, too loud.

Just like that, he was gone. Shaw took a deep breath, and reached behind her, gently pulling at Root's shins to part them. Root let her feet be separated, then Shaw moved backwards between Root's knees. Root lifted her wounded arm out of the way with surprised pleasure as Sameen leaned back against her chest, tenderly reaching for Root's wounded arm to wrap it around her shoulders, kissing the bandage at Root's elbow.

"John's right. Going at somebody with a knife when you're naked isn't exactly a good idea," Root joked, not sure what else to say. Shaw kissed the inside of Root's wrist, leaving her lips against the moon-pale skin. She didn't say anything, but Root waited, hoping that she was just thinking of how she wanted to reply.

"Thank you," Root said quietly after it had been a long while and it was clear that Sameen wasn't going to talk. With her bandaged hand, Root ran a hand up Shaw's arm to her shoulder, pushing the dark silky hair out of the way so she could kiss Shaw's bare shoulder. "I froze, but you… If it hadn't been Reese-"

"I know," Sameen said quickly, cutting Root off. She turned her head to look at Root, whose chin was still on Shaw's shoulder. Root shifted her head and saw the relief in Shaw's eyes before she shut them, turning her head further and leaning back to kiss Root's mouth.

Root snaked her good arm around Shaw, hugging them together.

"When was the last time you heard from Her?" Sameen asked. Root wondered if Shaw had known about the radio silence all along.

"She sent me to your apartment when I was shot," Root said. Shaw opened her eyes.

"Does She do that often? Not talk to you for days?" Sameen asked, and Root took her time replying.

"She has to be careful," Root said, not fully answering the question because she didn't like to think about how far apart the moments she heard Her voice were these days.

"So, if you don't hear from Her, you'll stay here while your arm's healing." It wasn't a question that Sameen was asking, she was _telling_ Root to stay. Her voice was somber.

"Until Reese or Fusco need me. Or if we hear from Finch," Root said.

"_When_ we hear from Finch," Shaw corrected, turning between Root's legs so that one of Root's legs was across her lap, the other behind her back. Root could see Shaw's slight frown.

"You worried about Atticus?" Root asked playfully. She was met by a look of confusion, and she realized that Shaw didn't get her reference. She smirked. "Atticus Finch? The father in _To Kill a Mockingbird_?"

"Sorry I'm not up to date on my classic literature," Shaw grumbled, her eyes darkening in annoyance.

"I'd feel a lot better about it if I knew where he is and what he's doing," she continued. Root could tell that Sameen really was worried, and she felt bad for teasing her. She extended her bandaged hand to take Shaw's, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"I haven't heard anything from Her. That means he's alright," Root said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. It seemed like Shaw believed Root's words, because her mouth twitched a little into a smile. "Plus, he's not confronting anyone yet. He's just gathering information."

Shaw's spine straightened as she sat up a bit, her eyebrows raising just enough to show that she had just come to realize something.

"He's planning something insane, isn't he?" she asked, the pitch of her voice rising. Root raised her own eyebrows back at Shaw, then pulled her legs free from Shaw's body to get up, turning away as she stood, her shot arm throbbing as it hung by her side. Shaw's hands grabbed the elbow of Root's good arm and her waist on the other side, conscious of the wounds on Root's body even as she was forcing her to stay still.

"_Root_."

Root's heart leapt into her throat when Shaw said her name. Shaw turned her around and Root saw how large and dark Sameen's eyes were, filled with fear as they searched Root's face. She could barely look at those eyes. She felt like she was burning under their gaze. But she also found she couldn't look away, even when she turned her head, her eyes stayed locked on Shaw's.

"He's ok," Root told her. Shaw got up too, her hands still on Root's body as she looked up at her.

"Why are you keeping me in the dark? I'm_ already_ in the dark down here," Shaw said, gesturing with her chin at the subway station around her.

"There's nothing you can do," Root said apologetically. This didn't do anything to calm Shaw down. "I'm just trying to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself," Shaw said, losing her temper. Then she reeled her anger back in as quickly as the venomous words had spilled from her.

Root watched the process of Shaw rearranging her face from fury into something softer. She was like a computer, sorting through code to find the right lines to respond to a specific stimulus. Finding the desired file and displaying the contained information. Shaw's eyebrows shifted on her forehead from irritation to tenderness, her mouth from a scowl to an inviting little smile. She took a step forward, too close to Root. Root could see through the coy facade. It was nothing more than a pretty picture to display to reach an objective.

Root's stomach churned again, hot with nausea, and it took her a second to understand why. The words from their conversation the night before returned to her.

_This_ was about efficiency.

"We've been here before, Sam. Or don't you remember? It ended with me drugging you," Root said, her voice stern. She looked down at Shaw angrily, watching the saccharine expression fade back into fury.

In her ear, the voice of the Machine informed Root that games were being set up globally, much like the one that had caused Claire Mahoney to become a number weeks ago. Root felt a pang of worry, but was reassured that the games were intended to find individuals to help with Finch's plan. Perhaps without realizing they were doing so.

"What?" Shaw asked. She took her hands off of Root, looking over her wounds like she was worried she'd hurt her. When she'd determined she hadn't done anything to make Root freeze, she seemed to realize that the Machine was speaking to Root again. "What's wrong? What's She saying?"

"If I tell you _anything_, you have to_ promise_ that you won't get involved unless we tell you to," Root said once the Machine had finished relaying information to her.

She could tell that Shaw was thinking this over, her lips pursing. Root waited.

"Yeah. Okay," Shaw said finally, and Root could tell that Shaw had decided she would do whatever she damn well pleased. But despite what Finch had told her about keeping Shaw out of the loop, Root had a nagging feeling that it was better to tell her _something_ than nothing at all.

"Finch is looking for Samaritan's other servers," Root told her.

"I thought you said there were too many of them," Sameen said, shaking her head in disbelief. Root raised her eyebrows, hoping she didn't seem too worried.

"She's doing Her best to help with that," Root said. She could tell that Shaw was at a loss. There really _wasn't_ anything she could do with that information. Root turned away, picking her clothes up off the ground and putting Shaw's on the bed.

Sameen was motionless.

"What does that mean?" Shaw asked finally, turning to watch Root carefully pull her shirt on, wincing when it caught on her elbow. Root finished dressing and stepped towards Shaw, holding out her underwear.

"For the time being, it means you and I stay put," Root told her. She turned away from Shaw then, heading into the subway car for her coffee and food, hoping it would calm her stomach.

She had sat down to eat her sandwich when Shaw appeared in the doorway, dressed in the same clothes she'd worn the day before. She took her own food out of the paper bag and sat down in the seat beside Root's, putting her coffee down at her feet. They ate in silence, neither one looking at the other.


	19. Chapter 19

Hey guys, thanks again for reading this! Hopefully this chapter cheers you up after Tuesday's episode.

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><p>Root showered on her own this time. It was nice to feel like she didn't have to rely on Sameen for everything. It also gave her some time to think.<p>

As she let the water run over her face and neck, pounding into the tender bruises on her head, her stomach calmed. This was in part because the hot shower was improving her hangover, and in part because she was thinking through her last few conversations with Sameen.

She thought about Shaw's question the night before- asking if their closeness, their sex, was a matter of Root getting what she needed. It had been a stupid question, because Root had thought it was very clear that she liked Shaw, what with the constant flirting. And then this morning, watching Shaw shape shift from fiery anger to sugar sweet, had come as a blow. Because it wasn't Root that had been seducing Shaw with ulterior motives. It was _Shaw_ that was trying to manipulate _Root_. It had crushed Root, although she would never admit it out loud.

As she sat down in the subway car with her coffee, she had thought to herself that it shouldn't bother her that Shaw was just using her to get what she wanted. The fact that it _did_ bother her probably meant she should end things. It would only hurt worse the more she let herself get attached to Sameen. To Shaw. It was easier for Root to distance herself if she thought of her as 'Shaw' instead of 'Sameen'.

But then Shaw had followed her into the subway and sat down in the seat right next to her. They weren't touching or speaking, but it was comforting to feel Shaw so close. Reassuring. Like Shaw was trying to bridge the gap between them but didn't quite know how, or if she even should. That made Root second-guess her decision to stop whatever it was they were doing.

And now, alone in the shower, gingerly trying to work shampoo into her hair with one hand, Root paused and leaned her arm, the one with the bullet wound that she was instructed to keep dry, against the wall.

Elation was creeping up on her as she thought about the manipulation that Shaw had tried to pull that morning. Because it had been _so obvious_ that she was trying to get what she wanted. And Root had only seen that from Shaw one other time- when she was trying to get Root to tell her where John and Finch were instead of being shepherded to the subway station to go into hiding. No other time had Shaw tried to work Root's emotions that way. When they were by themselves, Shaw caring for Root tenderly, or shoving Root into the mattress with animosity and arousal, or leaping up to be a human shield when there was a possibility of an attack, there was no falseness in those actions. Shaw was blunt. Straight-forward in a distant, hard-to-reach way. Yes, that first time they had slept together, Root had thought that Shaw was going to run away as soon as Root let her guard down. But she _hadn't_ run. And when she realized that's what Root expected from her, she was _wounded_.

Root felt happy because as far as she could tell, Shaw really _was_ just dense. Root reviewed all of this, double checking her memories to make sure she wasn't missing something. She turned off the water and reached for the towel with a grin on her face.

She just needed to make Sameen understand. Make her see that Root cared about the ex-assassin.

When she opened the bathroom door, Root couldn't see any sign of Shaw. Her heart skipped a beat.

But she walked to the door of the subway car in the towel and there she was, of course. Shaw was sitting in one of the built-in chairs, turning something in the palm of one hand, a funny look on her face. When she looked up and saw Root approaching, she quickly closed her fingers and stood up, palming whatever it was she'd been holding and shoving it into her pocket. Root could see that Shaw was deep in thought.

"Let me make sure your wounds look good," Shaw said distractedly, walking towards Root. Root followed her back into the bathroom and sat down on the toilet, lifting her shot elbow for Shaw to take a look at. Root watched her face curiously, wondering what had Shaw so unsettled. She could feel her heart expanding again, and wanted to grab Shaw and laugh and tell her that they were okay. But Shaw looked serious, so Root steeled herself for the coming conversation.

"What are you thinking about?" Root asked finally as Shaw prodded at the wound. Shaw looked up at her and shook her head.

"Nothing. Just," Shaw paused and shrugged, "just thinking."

Root smirked at her.

"Right. But about what?" she asked playfully. Shaw looked up at her, eyes dark with annoyance. Root could tell she wasn't going to get an answer.

"Well, I've been thinking too," Root said, smirking a little as Shaw bumped her bare knee.

"Yeah?" Shaw asked, not really listening as she started to tape gauze over Root's elbow again.

"Mhmm," Root replied, putting her cold foot on the thigh of Shaw's dark jeans. She could feel something small and hard in Shaw's pocket under the ball of her foot and remembered that Shaw had been holding something when Root had walked into the subway car. Shaw glanced up at her again, paying a little more attention now, looking confused and somewhat surprised. "I was thinking about you. About us."

Now she _really_ had Shaw's attention. She'd stopped pressing the tape onto Root's skin and was just looking up at her, worried.

"I know that you're not really into the whole _feelings_ thing," Root said, leaning forward so that her smirking mouth was close to Shaw's, her good elbow resting on her knee, the towel wrapped around her torso falling open just enough that she knew there was a long strip of bare skin down her side. Shaw's eyes didn't move from Root's own, huge and dark. "But I also know you care about me."

"You don't know me," Shaw said dismissively, shaking her head. Root could see her constructing emotional barricades between them, distancing herself, even though she hadn't actually backed away at all. Looking up at the ceiling, Root's smile widened and she tilted her head to the side.

"The thing is, Sam," Root said, slowly looking back at Shaw's face, "I care about you too."

Root watched Shaw's throat bob and her eyebrows raise a tiny bit.

"I actually _like_ being down here. I like being around you," Root said, chuckling a little as she spoke. She could see that Shaw wasn't sure what to do with herself. Her hands were motionless on Root's arm, her mouth shut tight. Root reached up with the hand that had been near Shaw's stomach, elbow between Shaw's fingers, and touched Shaw's cheek, smiling conspiratorially.

"So. Now you know. I care about you. And, this thing that we're doing, whatever it is, whatever you want to call it…" Root paused, watching Shaw's lips part. "I'm not scratching an itch, or following an order. I'm here because I want to be here."

Sameen closed her mouth again, her eyes bright black and almost sad, looking up at Root in the same way that Root had seen the night before. That unnamable affection and softness that was only for Root to see. Then Shaw's mouth opened, she licked her lips, jaw opening and then partially closing uncertainly as she looked for the right words to say. She looked away then, down at Root's foot, still sitting on her thigh. Root let her hand fall from Shaw's cheek.

"I don't like worrying about you," Shaw said, so quietly that Root almost didn't hear her. Root wondered for a moment if she'd miscalculated somehow, if all of this had been stupid, and she was now going to be dismissed completely.

"You scare me. _This_ scares me," Shaw continued, her voice low. "I'm not saying I don't want to keep… doing this. I do."

Shaw paused, then raised herself up some, Root's foot falling from her leg, and dug her hand into her pocket where Root had felt the hard piece of whatever it was. Shaw lowered herself again between Root's knees and looked at her closed fist for a second. After a beat, she opened her hand. It was the little medal- the one that Root had picked up in Shaw's apartment on a whim.

"This was in your pocket. When Reese brought you here," Shaw said, pausing as she brushed her thumb over the image of Lenin.

"It was in your apartment," Root said. "What is it?"

Shaw looked up at Root curiously.

"I thought the Machine must have told you already," Shaw said. Root shrugged and shook her head a tiny bit. Shaw looked back at the medal. "Why did you take it?"

"I guess because you don't have any extraneous things in your apartment. Except this. So either it has significance to you, or it belongs to someone who shouldn't have been there," Root explained. Shaw nodded, pulling her lower lip into her mouth as she pressed her thumb against the hammer and sickle.

"A kid gave it to me. She was a number," Shaw said. Root waited for her to offer more of an explanation, but none came. Eventually Shaw looked up at her.

"Look, I'm not wired for this. I'm not good at feelings. The kid who gave this to me, she got it right. The feelings are there, I just…" Shaw paused, looking back at her hand, shaking her head, "The volume's turned down. And I'm not good at listening."

"Can I be honest with you?" Root asked. Shaw looked up at her, cautiously curious, and gave a short nod of her head. Root's smile was apologetic. "I don't think that's true. I think you're just scared of what might happen if you let yourself feel things."

Shaw stiffened and looked angrily back down, and Root reached out and put her hand over the Order of Lenin medal in Shaw's palm.

"I'm not asking you to do anything, or be anything," Root said, reassuring the woman kneeling between her legs. "But I want you to remember that I care about you when things get bad."

Shaw kept her eyes on Root's hand, still covering her own.

"And Sameen, things _will_ get bad," Root said. Shaw met Root's gaze momentarily, acknowledging the severity of the statement.

"I'm going to disappoint you. No matter what your expectations are, I'm going to fail you. It's just how I am," Shaw said. Root wrapped her fingers around Shaw's.

"Okay," she said with a little smile. Shaw looked confused when she tipped her chin up to look at the woman sitting on the toilet, and Root tilted her head to one side light-heartedly. "You're assuming we survive long enough for me to be disappointed."

"I don't plan on dying any time soon," Shaw said, determination hardening her features. "And you'd better not do anything stupid to get yourself shot again."

Root just smiled at her. She knew she couldn't make any promises. Shaw gave her a stern look. "I _will_ come and find you. So if you want me to stay down here in this god damn cave, don't give me a reason to go up there."

"I'll do my best," Root said, playing it off like she was just flirting. But she knew her smirk didn't reach her eyes, and she could tell that Shaw had noticed because she seemed to have been appeased for the moment.

They sat in silence for a few long seconds, then Shaw shifted her weight and took Root's other hand in hers, the one with the knuckles that had been busted open against the pavement and broken glass. Sameen kept the medal in the palm of one hand while she pulled at the skin around the glued cuts with the other.

"Your hand looks good," Shaw sounded pleased. Root flexed her fingers into a fist in Shaw's hold, testing out the motion. It didn't feel great, but it certainly hurt less than before. The skin was healing up surprisingly quickly.

Shaw gently drug the pad of her middle finger down the dip of undamaged flesh between Root's knuckles to the crease between her first and second fingers, then rubbed back up between the knuckles, more firmly this time. Root knew that Shaw was probably just testing how pliable the skin was, seeing if it hurt and if the glue was holding the flesh together, but Root found herself thinking of other things. The strong, deliberate motion of Shaw's finger against the dark crease where her fingers met made Root's stomach flip, thinking of those fingers on other dark crevices of her body.

"I don't even think it needs a bandage anymore," Shaw said. Root was jerked out of her fantasy, but not fast enough. Shaw looked up at her with a satisfied expression that wavered when they made eye contact.

"That's good news. I've been missing being able to use my hands," Root smirked and opened her fingers, letting Shaw's slide between hers. Shaw's eyebrow raised a little at how suggestive Root's tone was, like she wasn't sure if she was more annoyed or amused. Root put her foot on Shaw's thigh again.

"You tazed me," Shaw said, her words clipped.

"Twice," Root corrected her, fighting a smirk and losing. Shaw shook her head.

"No, I mean, the day I got this," she said, opening her hand again and flipping the medal in her fingers. "That night, you tazed me. Drugged me."

Root's smile faltered and faded as she saw how somber Shaw was getting. But then, Shaw's own mouth twitched upward at the corner again.

"That whole time, breaking into the CIA safe house, cutting the grate in the sewer… you annoyed the crap out of me," she said, the hint of smile still there but her eyes dark with irritation. Root wasn't sure what to expect next. "That was fun."

Root's eyebrows raised and she smiled, tentatively at first, but when Shaw's eyes lightened to match her smiling mouth, Root gained confidence.

"Well, I know how you like playing rough," she teased, smirking when Shaw rolled her eyes. "You let Harold lock me up after that little escapade."

Shaw didn't look particularly remorseful.

"You deserved that," she said. "I didn't do anything to earn the kidnapping."

"I was doing what She asked me to do," Root said. Shaw put the medal down on the floor between her legs and lifted herself up onto her knees, her hands finding Root's calves to steady herself. Root's breath caught in her throat.

"No hard feelings," Shaw mumbled, smiling. She still seemed nervous.

"Are we naming this? The thing that we're doing?" Root asked, wondering if that's what had Shaw looking anxious.

"I don't do the whole 'having-a-girlfriend' thing," she said. She didn't seem annoyed, which Root took as a good sign.

"What about 'boyfriend'?" Root teased. She was testing the waters, seeing if Shaw would give her some sense of her past. Shaw smirked.

"It's been a very long time," she said with mirth in her eyes. She let her hands drift up Root's legs to her bare thighs. Root could see that there was still a nervousness under Shaw's actions, and she figured they were on a roll as far as actually talking about things went, so she knew she should just ask. She took a deep breath.

"Why are you nervous?" Root asked. Shaw blinked.

"I'm not," she said, too quickly. Root raised her eyebrows knowingly and Shaw looked a little embarrassed and annoyed. Root tilted her head flirtatiously, putting her hands on top of Shaw's on her thighs, waiting for an answer. She watched Shaw swallow. "Every time I touch you, I worry it could be the last time."

The honesty of the words struck Root deep, resonating down to her core. Her heart leapt into her throat. Shaw's eyes were enormous and sad, looking up at Root fondly. There was nothing Root could say. Shaw was right to worry. Root bent, cupped Shaw's face in her shaking hands, and kissed her. A new kiss. A kiss that asked that there be more kisses. Hoped for it.

A tear escaped from Root's eye, rolling down her cheek, salty on her tongue. Sameen must have tasted it too, because she pulled away.

"It's okay," she whispered, looking earnestly into Root's eyes. "You're okay."

Root smiled and kissed her again.


	20. Chapter 20

I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying this story. I've received so many sweet comments and I'm very happy that you all seem to feel my portrayal is not only accurate, but satisfying. I intend to keep writing this story despite what may happen in the show and I hope that you guys are still interested in reading it. If I could give you all bear hugs, I would!

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><p>Shaw kissed Root affectionately and moved her hands up Root's thighs, fingers brushing the edge of the towel. It was barely long enough for Root to sit on top of it on the lid of the toilet.<p>

Root had to bend over to be able to kiss Shaw, and when Shaw pushed her gently to get her to lean back, it meant that Shaw's face was barely level with Root's chest.

And then Root was distracted by the Machine. She had decided now was the time to update Root. Shaw was stretching as far as she could to kiss Root's neck. _Finch was no longer in London._ Shaw pulled the towel from around Root's chest with one hand. Root wondered if she should stop Shaw, because the Machine was sure to know what was happening and that felt odd to Root. _Finch was in Osaka._ Root shut her eyes and tried to focus on the Machine. Shaw was kissing Root's bare chest. _Finch was safe_. Root was definitely focusing on Shaw. Her lips were so soft on Root's skin, the lightest touch as she exhaled on Root's nipple. Perfect. _Daizo had been sent by the Machine to meet Finch._ Good news. Shaw's hand was moving the towel out from between her chest and Root's hips. _They were doing reconnaissance work to learn more about Samaritan's presence in Japan._ Root reached out to stop Shaw because she was afraid she would miss something from the Machine.

Shaw looked up at Root when she felt her hand on her head, and must have seen the concern in Root's face because she stretched her head up again to be as close to Root's face as her position would allow.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Shaw asked. The Machine had finished speaking. Root hadn't missed anything She had said. She wished she'd waited just a second longer before reaching out to Shaw and stopping her.

Root put her hand on the back of Shaw's neck, leaning forward to kiss Sameen's head, tipping her face down to breath against Shaw's hair. She felt exhausted suddenly.

"Finch is still alright," Root explained. Shaw looked up at her, relieved.

"She was talking to you?" Shaw asked after a beat, a little wary when Root nodded. "Does She uh… has She done that before? When we're… uh…"

"No," Root said, revealing that she was a little surprised by it as well. She hadn't ever had the Machine talk to her while she was engaged in anything so intimate.

"Did she know…?" Shaw asked. Root smiled tiredly.

"She knows everything I do," Root told Shaw with a smirk, but it faltered. "Or, she used to. These days she's a little busy, so I guess I'm not sure."

Sameen looked up at her, and Root felt bad for having derailed Shaw's intentions, but she also felt a little like she'd been walked in on by a parent.

Shaw kissed Root, then sat back on her heels, running a hand over her face.

"So I guess that kind of killed the moment, huh?" Shaw asked half-jokingly. Root looked at her apologetically. Shaw smiled weakly, putting a hand on Root's knee and picking up the medal from the floor with the other. She hesitated, bent to kiss Root's knee, then stood up.

Root reached out for her, pulling Shaw to her, and hugged her around her waist, her face against Shaw's stomach. Shaw put a heavy hand on Root's head and put the other around Root's shoulders. Root took a deep breath.

"You think the Machine knows when She's being a pain in the ass?" Shaw asked sarcastically. The Machine spoke up in Root's ear, telling her to go to Finch's computer for full information that She'd been able to put together and then contact him on Her behalf. Root stood up, readying to complete the task. She could feel Shaw's eyes on her as she left the room in a towel to get dressed.

Hours later, Root was still sitting at Finch's desk, working as quickly as she could with occasional input from the Machine. She felt a growing nervousness as she worked, which was only mildly eased by Shaw's presence. She'd been sitting in the built-in chair closest to Finch's desk, beside the monitor that Root was looking at, for almost as long as Root had been working. Shaw had herself seated so that her legs, stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles, were very definitely in Root's space. She didn't mind; it was endearing that Shaw hadn't been running around and doing push-ups at all, choosing instead to stay close by.

This was better than the initial set-up Shaw had tried. She kept hovering behind Root, sitting behind her, and Root had told her not to look over her shoulder. This was in part because it was annoying and in part because she didn't want Shaw to see what she was working on and get any ideas about heroics to pull.

She was fine with telling Sameen _some_ of what was going on, but Finch and the Machine were in agreement that she shouldn't be given enough information to plan some sort of intervention. Root couldn't deny that she felt uneasy about the whole thing. The Machine seemed to know more than She was letting Root in on- but Root could guess that something very dangerous was going to happen soon that She knew Shaw would not take sitting down. But if Shaw _didn't_ take it sitting down, it would lower the odds that their little band of merry men would succeed.

So now Shaw was sitting facing Root. She had the laptop on her lap, but Root could tell she wasn't doing much of anything. She could feel Shaw's eyes on her as she typed away, unearthing hidden instructions from the Machine to write code for a program to override security protocol and build a selective barrier to keep Samaritan from realizing that they were seeing their camera feeds looped, but allow the Machine to have continuous access to the real footage. Root knew that it was far from a flawless plan. It wouldn't take long for Samaritan to realize what was happening, and even less time for the problem to be sorted out. But the hope was that it would buy them just enough time for all of the people engaged in the games set up by the Machine all over the world to deploy their explosives.

Shaw seemed to be very aware of the anxiety that Root was experiencing as she called Finch and received no reply.

"Why's he not answering?" Shaw asked, her own worry spiking.

"It's the middle of the night there, he's probably asleep," Root reminded her. Root herself was worried, but the Machine was silent, and Root could only hope that meant nothing was wrong.

"Why don't you just ask Her what he's doing?" Shaw asked. Her frustration was clear. Root felt a swell of affection for Shaw, knowing she was trying to piece together how the Machine worked. The thing was, she didn't usually have to ask for anything. The Machine knew what she wanted and either gave it to her or didn't. Asking didn't change much.

Fusco turned up eventually, with cheap Thai food in one hand and a plastic bag with coat hangers hanging out the top in his other.

"You ladies have no idea how good you've got it, sitting around down here all day," he said as he entered the subway car. Shaw gazed past Root at Fusco with a dark look, pulling her feet towards herself and out of Root's space.

"Where's Reese?" Shaw asked.

"I figured he was working on one of your secret projects. He never showed up for work today," Finch said as he dumped the contents of his arms onto the end of the desk. Root pushed the food away from the keyboard, thinking of how mad Finch would be if something were spilled on his equipment. When she caught herself thinking such a thing she smirked. He really was rubbing off on her. "You're welcome, by the way."

Shaw rolled her eyes.

"But you heard from him? You must have if you knew to bring those clothes," Shaw said.

"Yeah, he just said he needed me to make an excuse for him," Finch explained, shrugging. Shaw's eyes narrowed like she was angry but Root could tell she was actually just nervous, and reached out to put a reassuring hand on Shaw's knee without thinking.

"I'm sure he's fine too," Root said. Shaw gave her a sidelong look but didn't push her hand away. When Root turned back to Fusco, he looked surprised.

"What do you mean, he's fine _too_?" he asked.

"Harold has been… busy," Root said, trying to sound aloof. Fusco's eyebrows raised.

"Those two had better turn up, otherwise it's just gonna be us as a threesome," Fusco said, as if the thought of just the three of them left was terrifying.

"Believe me, there is no universe where I would consider a threesome with you, Lionel," Shaw growled, and when Root glanced at her she could see the smirk on Shaw's face. Shaw met Root's gaze conspiratorially.

"Right back at ya," he said, offended, then spared Root a nervous look. She smirked at him, turning and leaning back in Finch's chair so that she and Shaw were both facing him, intentionally intimidating. "You girls are creepy, you know that?"

"We're aware," Root said with a tilt of her head. Root looked at Shaw over her shoulder playfully and saw that Shaw was nodding and smirking. They made eye contact and Shaw actually smiled with teeth, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. Root's stomach flipped.

"I'm going home to see my son," Fusco said, frustrated as he pulled some food out of the bag for them, then picked up the rest.

"Do you feed him takeout every night?" Shaw asked, disgusted.

"Not every night," Fusco replied defensively. Root turned back to him and saw that he was itching to leave, standing in the doorway of the subway car.

"All I'm saying, at this rate he's gonna have a heart attack by forty," Shaw said. She was almost _scolding_ Fusco. Fusco grimaced and took another step out of the car, shifting the bag in his hands.

"For a gun-slinging maniac, you're a lot more of a 'body is a temple' hippy than I figured," he said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he turned away. Root could feel Shaw seething behind her. She knew that this was probably Shaw's idea of being friendly, but Fusco wasn't having it. He shook his head as he walked towards the steps.

Root turned back to Shaw.

"I like that your body is a temple," Root said coyly, then leaned in close. "It gives me something to worship."

"My body is so not a temple," Shaw muttered dismissively. "And you already _have_ something to worship."

Root felt a little hurt by the irritation in Shaw's voice. Root had just been teasing. Kidding around. She furrowed her brow in confusion and watched Shaw lean forward to look at the computer screen. Root was working herself up to asking Shaw what was wrong, what she'd done to offend her, when the Machine cut in to update Root: John was actually going to be able to head to his own apartment to get some rest tonight.

"John and the dog are both fine," Root told Shaw. Shaw looked over at her. Root saw that Shaw looked a little sheepish, like she felt bad about having been annoyed. Then Shaw leaned forward and kissed Root quickly before she stood up and walked around Root for the food Lionel had brought.

"That's good news," she said, settling back down, propping her feet on the seat of Root's chair. Root made sure she'd saved what she'd been writing on Finch's computer. The code looked good and she was sure it would work, but not for how long. She'd sent it to Finch and Daizo hidden in a picture, and now all she could do was wait.

Root rolled away from Shaw to get food for herself as well, and Shaw's feet fell to the floor. Root turned and saw the annoyed look on Shaw's face. She rolled back towards her, locating her legs so that they were between Shaw's and they were facing one another. Root smirked at her and watched Shaw's eyes light up.

"Are you done working?" she asked.

"For tonight," Root said lightheartedly, opening up the box of takeout in her hands. Shaw did not manage to fully hide the glee she felt as she took a bite of food.

Root was still a little clumsy because of her shot elbow, but her hands were much more steady, and without the bandages, her right hand was almost normal. She wasn't about to try to use chopsticks, but after the talk she and Shaw had had that morning, Root couldn't wait to try to use her hands for _other_ things. She flexed her fingers, looking at her knuckles, and smiled as she took a bite of her food. Shaw had watched Root test her hand and gave her a knowing smirk, her eyebrow raising as she scarfed down her food. Root smirked back at her and moved one knee against the inside of Shaw's thigh.

While they ate, Shaw asked what it was that Root was working on and Root explained vaguely, telling about how she had embedded the information in a photo for Finch and Daizo. Shaw seemed impressed and despite all of the times she'd teased Root and Finch for being nerds, she seemed like she enjoyed learning about it, and already understood quite a bit of what Root was saying.

Shaw finished every bite of her food and Root ate enough to be pleasantly full, setting aside her leftovers.

"I guess if you're done writing code, and the boys aren't going to be back tonight…" Shaw paused, leaning forward, tilting her head to one side and then the other with a little smile, pretending like she was considering the available options, "It sounds like we have some time to ourselves."

"It sounds that way," Root replied with a flirtatious grin. Shaw took the armrests of Finch's rolling chair in her hands and pulled Root as close as they could fit together.

"Well, then we'd better make the most of it," Shaw said in her best gravelly voice.

In her ear, the Machine notified Root that tomorrow, at around noon, there would be work to do. Root didn't know why, it wasn't like She had used any intonation, but Root had a feeling that she would be gone longer than a few hours. She tried to swallow her worry, hoping Shaw hadn't noticed the interruption as she ran her hands over Shaw's thighs.

"We'd better," Root agreed.


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for continuing to read this story and for leaving me such nice reviews! Just a heads up, I may have to start posting new chapters every third day instead of every other day. My schedule has gotten busier and I want to make sure I'm giving each chapter of this story the time and attention it deserves.

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><p>The little smile, more in Shaw's eyes than her mouth, made Root's stomach flip again. She didn't think she would ever get tired of the bright, warm feeling that started in her chest and coursed through her whole body, like every cell was responding to the slightest display of pleasure from Shaw.<p>

The Machine's update had cut through that warmth in Root's stomach efficiently, a spike of fear straight to the gut, and Root kissed Shaw because she was desperate to feel her tonight in case tomorrow was the beginning of the end. Even if the nagging sensation that Root was going to be plunged into the depths of war was wrong, Shaw's words from the bathroom were still echoing inside of Root's brain with the Machine's update- it was always a possibility that there wouldn't be a 'next time'. Root realized that meant that even if she did survive the next few days, she would always have to treat each moment she spent with Shaw like it might be the last one.

Shaw seemed a little surprised by the voracity that Root kissed her with but caught up quickly, pushing into Root's kiss hard enough that the chair started to roll away and she had to pull it close again. Root's knees bumped the plastic edge of Shaw's bench seat hard with the movement of the chair, but she didn't care.

Shaw hooked her heels in the star-shaped base of the chair to keep it close to her and her hands found Root's waist. Root kept her wounded arm close to her stomach, careful with the gunshot wound in her elbow, and Shaw moved her hand accordingly, equally aware that Root was still mending. With her good arm, Root grabbed onto Shaw's shirt, a fistful of cloth to help keep them anchored together. Shaw looked down at Root's bare knuckles with an approving little grin and sat back in her seat, her heels still tight on the chair's base. Root wanted to take the reins, and this was Shaw's way of relinquishing them for the moment.

Root smirked at her and pulled Shaw's shirt up with her good hand, avoiding using her left arm as much as possible. Shaw helped take her shirt off when Root struggled, and then sat back against the seat, one hand on each of the armrests, Root's knees between her own, slouching casually into the seat that she was no longer centered over, halfway between two built-in seat cushions and she didn't see to mind.

Root gazed at her bare abdomen, taking the time to really look at her.

There was the scar where Shaw had been shot once upon a time by Wilson, her old boss, a few other old wounds healed over here and there, and of course, in the middle of her chest, the twin scabs from Harold's taser that had not fully healed yet. Root reached out and touched them again and immediately wished she hadn't because Shaw's face grew serious with the contact.

When she saw Shaw's expression, Root leaned forward and kissed her again, gently touching her face with her bad arm's hand, letting the hand on Shaw's chest drift to cup one hand over her bra. Once she could tell that Shaw was relaxing again, not thinking quite so much about the pain of the past few days, Root leaned back and pulled her own shirt off, flinching when it caught on her elbow.

Shaw's hands were immediately on her, helping her get her arm free. Then Shaw was satisfied that Root was alright and she once again sat back, her hands on Root's thighs.

Root got up with a coy smile and put one leg on either side of Shaw's lap, straddling her hips and watching Shaw's eyes light up a little as she tilted her head back to look up at Root, her hands moving over Root's thighs to her hips. Root bent to kiss her, taking Shaw's face in her hands, and she could feel Shaw trying to sit up straighter under her to kiss her with more ease, could feel Shaw's back arching off of the plastic to meet her.

Shaw kissed Root's neck and chest as Root reached around Shaw's body to take off her bra with sore fingers, her bad arm resting on Shaw's shoulder. Shaw removed Root's bra twice as fast as Root's fumbling fingers managed to get Shaw's off, then Shaw's hands rested loosely at Root's waist as Root slowly rolled Shaw's nipple between her newly freed fingers, her kiss longing.

Shaw's hips pushed up into her own, and Root took her time giving Shaw's breasts attention, kneading them, rocking her hips against Shaw's, which were moving with increasing need. Root knew that because her legs were on either side of Shaw's body, the shorter woman was getting no friction. She could see the flush creeping over Shaw's chest, and felt Shaw's eagerness when Shaw's straight white teeth clamped down on Root's nipple, almost at eye-level with Shaw's face.

Eventually Root's hand snaked between their bare stomachs to Shaw's pants, pushing against her through the fabric, and watched Shaw's head press back against the window of the subway car. With her bad arm, Root touched Shaw's throat and then her shoulder, pushing her fingers into Shaw's strong, tight trapezius muscle. Root grabbed the muscle with as much strength as her wounded arm would allow and watched Shaw's head pull to the side, exposing her smooth neck to Root's hand. Shaw's hands tightened on Root's hips and Root rewarded her hunger by unbuttoning Shaw's pants and sliding her hand inside of them, her fingers curling against Shaw's underwear. With a shuddering exhale, Shaw struggled to sit up straighter again to have more contact with Root. Root kissed her hard.

After a few minutes of Root rubbing circles against Shaw through her underwear, she could tell that Shaw was starting to lose her patience, biting Root's lip just a little too hard with a low groan when Root started to remove her hand. When she realized that Root was pulling her hand away to get her to take off her pants, Shaw quickly reached around Root's legs, still on either side of her body, and help Root get them down off her thighs.

Root pulled her underwear down with the pants and as soon as they were both past Shaw's knees, Root's fingers were on Shaw's body. Shaw quickly gave up trying to get her pants off of her ankles- Root knew Shaw's shoes were in the way and that there was no way that Shaw was going to keep thinking about kicking her shoes off when Root's fingers were pressing against her wet body, one finger dipping inside of her before circling her clitoris smoothly.

Shaw's body arched up harder than ever, her breath shuddering as Root's fingers moved expertly against her, and then inside of her, the heel of Root's hand against her clitoris so that when her hips rocked with Root's thrusts, there was friction and pressure. Root knew exactly what to do when, knew exactly how much Shaw needed each movement of her hand.

The fingernails that pressed into Root's spine when she kissed Shaw were just enough pleasurable pain to distract her from the soreness of her knuckles. She didn't want to stop.

She could tell that Shaw was getting close when her head pressed back against the windows again, her hands on Root's chest, pinching Root's nipples hard as her eyes shut and her lips parted. Root's fingers moved faster, harder, matching the rhythm of Shaw's hips until the woman beneath her grunted and her mouth fell open, leaning forward suddenly to press her face against Root's chest as she shuddered and her hips jerked. Root wrapped her bad arm around Shaw's shoulders, cradling her as she shook with pleasure.

Shaw eventually leaned back again, her arms around Root to pull her close as her breathing evened again, her chest and forehead damp with sweat. Root removed her hand from between them and kissed her, feeling Shaw move underneath her. When Root looked to see what Shaw was doing she realized she was fighting her feet out of her pants. Root smirked at her and received a contented grin in return, only a hint of annoyance on Shaw's face as she struggled.

Then Shaw grabbed onto her hips firmly, rocking forward and making Root lean back. Root grabbed Shaw's upper arm with her right hand, afraid she was going to fall. Shaw gestured with her chin behind Root, and when she glanced over her shoulder she saw that Shaw wanted her to get back in the desk chair.

"Harold would do more than use a taser on you if he found out," Root said with her eyebrows raised, disbelief and amusement mingling in her voice. Shaw leaned forward, tilting Root back even more.

"Well, then he'd better not find out," she growled with a smirk, enunciating the words carefully, her eyes heavy-lidded. Root felt her heart thudding in her chest, thunderous and fast, tilting her head playfully as she returned the smirk, then slid off of Shaw's lap, relaxing into the chair.

No sooner had she sat down than Shaw was pulling the shorts from around her hips, pushing the chair against the wall where it wouldn't roll away from her. She knelt between Root's legs and kissed her chest, her hands moving over Root's body as she used her teeth and her tongue.

She paused with her head below Root's belly button, looking up at her with a smirk, and Root shivered in the cold air of the subway station, looking down at her with raised eyebrows, wondering why she had stopped.

"Too bad I don't have an iron and some zip ties," Shaw joked, her voice low. Root chuckled but before she could reply Shaw's mouth was on her, one finger pushing smoothly inside her simultaneously, and all Root could do was suck air in between her teeth with a hiss, her laugh becoming a little noise of surprise and pleasure.

Sameen put one of Root's legs over her shoulder, pushing herself closer between her legs as Root sank down in the chair, her hips on the edge of the leather cushion. Her other foot, the one not hanging behind Shaw's back, found the seat Shaw had been sitting on, pushing against it to steady herself, her good hand gripping her thigh hard.

Shaw's hand found hers, fingers wrapping around Root's where they were digging into her thigh, and held onto it, letting Root squeeze her fingers tight when Shaw eventually added a second finger, moving inside of Root.

When Root felt her hips trying to grind into Shaw's face of their own volition, she wondered how Shaw had gotten so good at this if she'd only slept with one other woman. Her thoughts were cut short when Shaw shifted her mouth perfectly, and she released Shaw's hand to grab onto her head, fingers in Shaw's hair, desperate for her to repeat the motion.

Shaw did, groaning quietly against Root, and the vibrations were all Root needed. Gasps hissed from her as she came apart in Shaw's hands.

She finished bucking under Shaw and sighed with a little smile, licking at her lips. Her mouth was dry from panting.

Shaw kissed her way back up Root's stomach, sucking a hard nipple into her mouth and then releasing it from her warm lips, inhaling with her open mouth still hovering over the sensitive flesh. The sudden cold rush of air made Root jerk, not sure if she wanted to move away from Shaw's mouth or towards it. Shaw kissed Root's breast with a smirk, soothing her, and got up, leaning over to kiss Root. Root sighed into Shaw's mouth, shivering.

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><p>"Lionel's right, we <em>do<em> have it pretty good down here," Shaw said, her voice thoughtful. Earlier, she had pushed the cots together. When Root had teased her Shaw had pointed out that it was stupid for them to sleep on a twin bed together if they could try to make it a little more comfortable. She had also pointed out that they only had one blanket and with the subway being so cold it just made more sense to sleep in the same bed. Root couldn't argue with that. She was curled up under said blanket while Shaw pushed the new bed frame up against the original one.

Now Shaw was sitting on the bed with the laptop on her knees, reading something, while Root leaned against her, wishing the Machine would say something. But when Shaw spoke, Root snorted. Shaw lifted her head to see what she was laughing at.

"What?" she asked.

"That's certainly a change of tune," Root joked, her eyebrows pulling upwards in disbelief. Shaw scowled and turned back to her computer. Root put her hand on Shaw's forearm and could feel that Shaw was wondering if she should pull it away. Root had already pushed her luck by snuggling up to Shaw's side, and it had taken a few minutes for Shaw to relax with Root pressed up against her. Root had seen the look on her face that said she wasn't used to cuddling. Shaw could put her tongue on the most intimate parts of Root's body when they were having sex, but it was hard for her to let Root so much as lean against her shoulder.

"It's easier to be down here hiding in a hole when no one's in danger," Shaw said dismissively. Root kissed Shaw's shoulder and Shaw let her. "You haven't heard anything about Finch?"

"No, She hasn't said anything about Harold," Root said. Shaw turned her head to look at her. Root realized she'd worded her sentence poorly. She'd made it sound like she'd heard something from the Machine since telling Shaw that John and Bear were alright. She _had_, but she didn't want to have to tell Shaw that she was leaving in the morning.

"John?" Shaw asked, knowing that Root had heard something. Root forced a little smile.

"He's fine. I haven't heard anything," she said, hoping that would be enough. She could tell that Shaw could see through her smile, but the shorter woman didn't press her, turning back to the computer with a hint of annoyance.

"There's one thing this place doesn't have," Shaw grumbled. "I miss shooting bad guys."

Root smiled lightheartedly, rubbing her hand on Shaw's arm.

"I know, sweetie," she said with mock sympathy.

Shaw smirked, her eyes not leaving the laptop screen.


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for favoriting and following this story and leaving such nice reviews! I love hearing from you guys. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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><p>Root woke up in the dark by herself and got up, wrapping the blanket around her body. She walked to the subway car to find Shaw using the laptop again, sitting in one of the built-in seats with her feet propped up on Finch's chair. Root leaned against the doorframe and Shaw caught sight of her, her face lit up with white light from the laptop's screen.<p>

"How long have you been up?" Root asked. Root could see from the sudden change of color from white to blue on Shaw's face that she had quickly closed something on the screen before she put the laptop down beside her on the bank of seats.

"I don't know. It's about seven forty five," Shaw said, glancing at the laptop's clock. Root went and turned the lights on in the whole station, then came back to the car to look at the clothes the Machine had provided for her.

She still hadn't told Shaw that she was leaving, and knew that sooner or later she would have to let her know, but she didn't know how she should do it. When she opened the bag of clothes she hoped to find some clue as to what she would be doing.

There was nothing particularly notable about any of the clothes. A grey leather jacket, a pair of black jeans, a royal blue shirt, some surprisingly lacy lingerie, socks and sensible black boots without a heel. Root knew what that meant- she'd need to be able to run.

Root looked over at Shaw, who was watching, and could tell that the shorter woman was thinking the exact same thing.

"Do you know what the Machine is going to have you doing yet?" Shaw asked. Root feigned confusion, and Shaw looked annoyed. "I'm not stupid. She's obviously got some plan."

Root looked down at the shoes in her hand.

"I don't know yet. I just know I have to be ready to leave in a couple of hours," Root said. Shaw pursed her lips and nodded.

"Does she always give you such uh… nice underwear?" she asked, pulling the laptop onto her lap again. She was still annoyed but spared Root a sly look and a smirk. Root smiled back at her with raised eyebrows.

"Honestly? No," Root said. She tipped her head to one side. "I think it's as close to an apology as you're going to get from Her."

Shaw snorted.

"Your robot can apologize?" Shaw asked sarcastically. Root smirked.

"Not a robot," she scolded, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders. She saw Shaw's eyes move over her as she pulled off the tank top she'd borrowed and struggled with the new bra.

Shaw got up from her seat and walked over, turning Root away from her and hooking the bra behind her, then helping her with the shirt.

"I appreciate the help, Sam, but it's_ so_ much less fun getting dressed by you than undressed," Root said coyly. Shaw smiled a little and shook her head.

"Tell me about it. Her apology would be a lot more meaningful if I was going to have the chance to admire it," she growled. She turned to walk back to her seat, and Root stopped her, turning her around to kiss her. Shaw's eyes showed the briefest flash of melancholy.

"You will. As soon as I get back," Root said. Shaw forced a smile.

"I'll check in," Root said, feeling an overwhelming sadness growing in her stomach. "I promise."

Shaw nodded.

"The laptop will be on, in case it's easier to let me know that way," Shaw said. She seemed like she was all business now. Root nodded. Part of her wished that Shaw would tell her to stay. Not because she actually could, but because she wanted to be told she was cared about. It was silly, and it made her uneasy, knowing that she cared _so much_ about Sameen.

When it was time for Root to leave, Sameen stopped flicking cards into the open box on the floor. She'd been doing sets of pushups again and again and again, and was only stopping because she could tell that Root was getting ready to leave.

Root caught anxiety in Shaw's eyes before she pursed her lips, once again pulling a mien of careful apathy. Root's own eyes stayed big and sorrowful as Shaw approached her.

"Do you have a gun?" Shaw asked.

"No, but I'm sure I'll find one if I need one," Root said, watching Shaw's eyebrows pull together with momentary worry before her forehead smoothed again and she gave a tiny nod. Root watched Shaw swallow and put her hands on Shaw's shoulders, her left arm throbbing with pain.

"Be careful," Shaw said, her voice low. Root smirked at her and tilted her head forward, playful. This was almost exactly what she'd wanted, and now that she'd gotten it she couldn't help but pretend it was adorable how naive Shaw was being. Shaw's eyes darkened and Root could see the beginning of a scowl. She hesitated and then kissed Shaw, softly.

"I will," she said quietly. The irritation that she had seen in Shaw dissipated, replaced by concern. Then Shaw took a deep breath and stepped back, steeling herself.

"Well, get going," Shaw said, frustrated and sad. Root gave her a little smile that didn't reach her eyes, then turned and walked up the steps, her hands swaying at her sides. She glanced back over her shoulder but Shaw had already walked away.

Root exited the subway station and blinked in the sunlight. It was much warmer outside than she had expected, and the sun felt good on her skin. It helped assuage the building fear inside of her. Fear that got worse with every step that took her further from the relative safety of the subway station. And more specifically, Shaw.

She paused at the corner and took a deep breath. People walked past her, and she felt a little lost. The Machine hadn't said anything yet, even now as she looked straight into a security camera on the outside of a bodega. Root closed her eyes, letting herself be jostled by the New Yorkers that couldn't be bothered to avoid walking into a stationary pedestrian. She didn't move, even when her bullet wound throbbed with pain when someone bumped her especially hard.

Finally, She spoke.

Root's eyes snapped open and she began to walk, smiling with relief, feeling like she'd been thrown a life preserver.

"What are we up to today?" Root asked Her, breathing much more freely now that she knew she had a purpose. The Machine gave her directions, and she followed them with ease, enjoying the constant guidance through the throngs of people as she traversed Manhattan on foot.

Eventually she ended up outside of the precinct where Fusco and John worked, right as the two men were approaching the door. John spotted her first and stopped, a confused and concerned look on his face. Fusco looked back at his partner and followed his gaze. When he saw Root, his face fell. She smiled playfully at them as she closed the distance between them.

"Nice day for a walk, John. Don't you think?" she asked him when the Machine told her to get him to join her. Root tried not to grin quite so broadly, and Reese looked skeptical.

"Where are we walking to?" he asked as Root swaggered up to him, her hands in her jacket's pockets.

"I don't know yet," Root said lightly. The Machine spoke again. "Lionel, do you mind sharing your toys? I need a gun."

He rolled his eyes.

"You know my guns are registered to me, right Fruitcake?" Lionel asked, annoyed.

She put her right hand out without looking at him, and after a beat she felt the reassuring weight of a handgun in her open palm. She smiled at Lionel and pocketed the weapon.

"Take the dog back to the subway station after work," Root told him. Lionel shook his head in disbelief and she pouted at him, "Shaw could use the company."

"You think I'm gonna hang around that creepy dungeon with her?" Lionel said. Root could tell he was going to continue speaking, but cut him off with a smirk.

"I meant she could use the dog's company," Root said, her nose wrinkling playfully. Lionel looked offended, but before he could offer a retort, she turned and started to walk away. She didn't bother to turn around and see if John was coming.

"You got some of your bandages off," Reese said, quickly matching her pace as they walked up the block.

"That's right," Root replied, checking for bikes and cars before stepping into the crosswalk, "The doctor's cleared me to play."

John followed her across the street before he replied.

"How'd she take it? You leaving?" he asked. Root looked over at him, surprised he was asking about Shaw, but he was scanning the faces of the people they were passing. Root paused until he looked at her. "Are we pretending you two _aren't_ doing whatever it is you're doing?"

Root started to walk again. She wasn't sure how to reply. She couldn't tell if he was just making polite conversation or if he really wanted to know. If it was the latter, she wondered why he cared.

The Machine told her to turn left.

She did, cutting in front of John and making him stop short to keep from running into her. She could tell he was annoyed with playing follow the leader as they continued walking for a number of blocks.

"This is where our number's girlfriend lives," he said when they turned onto a street and Root slowed, waiting for further instructions. Root looked up at him questioningly.

"Evans, the guy who's working with Samaritan's engineers? His girlfriend lives in that building," Reese explained, tipping his head towards the next building on the block. "He came here after the meeting the other day."

Root looked up at the windows of the building.

"Alright, what are we doing here?" Root asked. John correctly guessed that Root was talking to the Machine. She listened to the reply and slowly turned back to him, nodding.

"There are no cameras inside. Do you know which apartment she lives in?" Root asked. Reese waited and then realized she was, in fact, asking him.

"Top floor, corner apartment," he said, craning his head back to see the windows. "Do we know why we're here yet?"

"Not exactly. We're looking for something- something that needs to be protected," Root said. John nodded as they headed towards the front door of the building. Once they were inside the elevator, Root heard another piece of information that made her stomach tighten. "Unfortunately, this may be a little more complicated than I thought. We've got company approaching outside."

"Do you think Evans is hiding information from his bosses? Stashing secrets here so they're not at his own place?" Reese asked. The elevator doors gave a loud _ding_ and opened at the top floor.

"I don't know yet," Root told him.

The Machine was informing her that Martine was among the operatives who were approaching, and her stomach churned.

She followed John down the hall to the apartment. They could hear music playing inside. They looked at one another in surprise, and he tried the door. It was locked. After a second's hesitation, Reese knocked on the door. When he'd waited a minute and no one answered, he knocked harder.

"NYPD, open up," John said.

Root saw the peep hole darken, and hid her gun behind her leg. The door opened, the chain still latched, and she could see a woman's eye.

"Can I help you, officers?" the woman asked, fear in her voice. John smiled at her.

"We just have a few questions to ask you, Miss…?" John said, hoping she would tell him her name.

"No, I'm sorry, you can't come in," the woman said, starting to close the door. The Machine told Root that Martine and the rest of the operatives were entering the building and She wouldn't be able to see or give any more updates.

"Did Evans tell you not to answer the door?" Root asked before the woman had shut it all the way. The woman paused. "That's what I thought. We were sent here to protect something. And I'm just _guessing_ that that _something_ is you."

"Y-you need to leave," the woman said, the pitch of her voice rising. John was looking at Root tiredly, like he was just realizing what sort of situation they had gotten themselves into.

"You're right, we _do_ need to leave," Root said, giving the woman a playfully annoyed smile that evaporated when she continued. "All of us. Right now. Because there's a whole crew of people on their way up here with guns, and trust me when I say that you'd much rather come with us than stay here and meet them."

The woman looked at John, and he gave her a tight smile.

"She's right," he told the woman, his voice low and rough in his throat. They could hear the faint elevator beep in the distance, signaling that the doors had opened downstairs. "Please open the door."

The woman hesitated for a second, and then shut the door to unlatch it.

"The Machine couldn't have given us a heads up that we were here for a _person_?" he asked. Root gave him a fake sympathetic smile.

"You should know by now that She likes it when I figure things out on my own," Root told him as the door opened again, wide this time. Root had been thinking the same thing as John. It wouldn't have been hard for the Machine to let her know. It wasn't like it would have made a difference in their plan, but now that she knew that Samaritan had operatives heading up the elevator with a myriad of guns, she found herself wishing that she'd said something more to Sameen before she left.

John grabbed the woman's upper arm and ushered her into her apartment.

"Is there a fire escape?" he asked, looking out the living room windows as Root closed and locked the door behind herself, shifting her gun to her bad arm so she could push furniture in front of the apartment door.

"In the bathroom," the woman said, pointing in the direction of a doorway. John walked through the door, motioning for the woman to follow him. She stood still, looking after him with fright.

"If it's not too much to ask, could I get your name?" he grunted. Root could tell he was shoving the window up. The woman was still standing in the living room, and Root pushed her forwards with her bad arm, turning to face the door when there was a loud slamming sound from the other side.

"The door's blocked," a muffled voice said from outside.

"Then _un_block it," a second voice said. A woman's voice. Martine. Root backed away quickly, shutting the bedroom door behind her and then the bathroom door.

"We need to hurry," she said, unable to keep the panic from her voice as she leveled her gun at the bathroom door.

"Alright, Tasha," John was saying, half out of the window onto the fire escape. Root could see that the woman, apparently named Tasha, was having doubts, and was standing in the middle of the bathroom with her hands pressed over her mouth. John was reaching out to her with one hand, trying to reassure her. "You're ok, I promise. We're here to help you. But you need to come with us."

"John, we don't have time for this," Root warned, shoving Tasha towards John right as a loud explosion shook the bathroom. Tasha and Root both stumbled. Root's wounded arm connected with the sink and she cried out as pain shot through her like electricity.

"What was that?" Tasha screamed. Root righted herself and pushed Tasha into John's hands, gritting her teeth.

"That was your apartment door being blown off its hinges. _That_ is why we're here," Root told her as John half-pulled Tasha through the window.


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks again everyone! Seriously, reading your reviews makes my day. Thanks for being so understanding about the slowed down pace of my posts. Rest assured that I have no intention of abandoning this. I can't wait for you guys to see where the story goes- I _think_ you'll like it!

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><p>There was yelling from behind Root as she followed John and Tasha out of the bathroom and onto the metal staircase. She ducked to the side of the open window, her gun in her bad arm, while the other two made their way down the first flight of steps. Inside the apartment, doors slammed open.<p>

After a few seconds, a man with a gun stuck his head out the window, and Root shot him in the arm, wrestling the gun out of his hand and holding him in the window to block the person behind him while she looked to see how John and Tasha were doing.

They were halfway down the fire escape.

Root shoved the man she'd shot back into the bathroom and started running after Reese, shooting up at the window when another gunman emerged.

She took the stairs at a run and jumped off the bottom to the ground, where John was pulling Tasha deeper into the alley, out of view of the gunman above them. Root shot up at him as she moved away from the base of the fire escape.

"Now's not the best time, Shaw," John said through clenched teeth, shooting up at the gunman as Root ducked behind the dumpster with the other two. Root looked at Reese in surprise and he nodded his head for her to take the call. The Machine connected her to Shaw, leaving John to take aim up at the side of the building.

"John's a little busy," Root said light-heartedly, grabbing Tasha with her bad arm and pulling her down closer to the ground at the Machine's request. A fraction of a second later, a bullet ricocheted off the wall near the spot where Tasha's chest had been. With a smirk, Root joked, "Should I be offended that you called him instead of me, sweetie?"

"There's a new number- Tasha Washington," Shaw replied, ignoring Root's comment. "It looks like she might have a connection to the other number- Michael Evans."

"She's the girlfriend. We're currently taking cover behind a dumpster together," Root said, looking at Tasha and seeing how afraid she was, her shoulders hunched as if that would protect her. Root stuck her arm out around the corner of the dumpster with the Machine's guidance and shot at the female operative who had just entered the alley. The Machine informed her that her bullet had hit the woman squarely in the knee.

"Are you seriously already in a fire fight?" Shaw asked. Root could hear the worry in her voice and her heart fluttered.

In her ear, the Machine alerted Root that Evans was nearby, heading in the direction of the apartment building.

"You know what? Screw this. I'm coming to help you guys. You're still recovering from the _last_ time you got shot," Shaw said.

"No, Sam," Root commanded her. The Machine spoke in her ear again. "I need you to stay there. The Machine is going to stream Her feeds to you so you can help John get Tasha out of here. She needs to get to Fusco. That's our best bet at keeping her safe."

"What about you?" Shaw asked. Root didn't answer, listening as the Machine told her that Evans had just rounded the corner onto this block and was approaching the mayhem. When she didn't get a response, the pitch of Shaw's voice escalated. "_Root_- What are _you_ going to be doing?"

"I have something else I need to take care of," Root told Shaw, then disconnected the call and took a deep breath to steady herself. She raced out from behind the dumpster.

"Hey, where are you going?" John yelled after Root. She was at the mouth of the alley already, hurrying towards the street to get to Evans. Martine emerged from the front of the apartment building at the same time that Root reached the sidewalk, and when Evans caught sight of both of them, guns in their hands, he halted and then turned on his heel to run back in the direction he came from.

Martine spun around. She saw Root and smirked as she started to take aim. Root ducked back into the alley just in time, plastering herself against the wall, adrenaline pumping through her veins. There was a loud pop of bullets on brick. When Root stuck her head out again, she saw that Martine and four others were following Evans away from the building. She fired a few shots their direction but they were too far away.

"They're going after Evans," Root told Reese. The gunman above them had reloaded and was making his way down the fire escape, shooting at them. Root pointed her gun up and aimed, following the Machine's guiding tones and shooting him in the foot. He stumbled and fell down the rest of the flight of stairs, falling off the metal steps to the ground.

"Take her to Fusco, I'm going after them. Talk to Shaw, she'll be able to help you get there," Root said. "I'll be in touch."

She gave him one last determined look and he nodded, matching her expression. Without another second's hesitation, she turned and ran into the street, leaving Reese to get Tasha out of harm's way.

Root sprinted to the end of the block and found that there had been a car accident. She paused. Halfway up the block, Evans was ducking into a cab, and Martine and her crew were slamming shut the doors of a black SUV. The Machine directed Root down into the subway station, breezing through the turnstile without a ticket thanks to the Machine's help, to a train which was just about to close its doors when she leapt inside.

She breathed heavily for the few minutes it took to get to the next station. The Machine was giving her turn by turn updates of Evans and Samaritan's operatives on the streets above her, and told her to get off. She did, racing up the steps and running a few dozen steps out into the road right as Evans' taxi got to the crosswalk. Root opened the door to the cab and looked back down the block. The SUV was four cars behind them, with a gunman hanging out the passenger side window. She shot back at the vehicle, hitting the man in the shoulder, then threw herself into the back seat beside Evans.

"No no no! I already have a fare!" the taxi driver yelled, "You can't shoot a gun in my cab!"

"I didn't shoot a gun in your cab, I shot a gun _outside_ of your cab," Root said condescendingly. "Can you step on it? We're in a bit of a hurry."

"Woah, lady, I don't know who you are, but you've got the wrong guy," Evans was saying, putting one hand up as he shrank against the opposite side of the back seat. She saw him reaching for the door handle and quickly switched her gun to her bad hand, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt. The taxi driver had not put his foot on the gas yet, still yelling at her. She casually pointed her gun at the driver.

"Do you mind?" she asked lightly, and he stopped screaming, putting his hands up. She looked at his licensure posted inside the cab and then smiled at him.

"Pranav, I understand your hesitation, but you really only have two options. One- I shoot you right now and push you out of this cab," she said, and watched him swallow hard. "Or two- you take your foot off the brakes and hopefully help all three of us avoid getting shot by the people in the SUV behind us."

"Either way, I'm going to get killed," Pranav said, resigned to his fate. Root tilted her head to the side.

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?" she told him. She yanked on Evans's collar, wrenching him down off of his seat and into the foot space, his head beside her knees, out of view of the rear window just before a gunshot shattered the glass. Pranav yelped and immediately hit the gas, lurching the car forward through traffic.

"Good choice. Now," Root said, turning to Evans like they were having any old conversation, one in which he wasn't wedged between the back seat and the driver's in a cab that was being shot at by Samaritan's operatives, "Michael, my _friend_ made sure that I brought some backup when I went to protect Tasha. Which means that She must have known that you were both going to be in trouble. It would help me help you if I knew what _sort_ of trouble you were in."

Evans was cursing under his breath, not responding to her, trying to cower away from her but she still had a firm grasp on his shirt.

"No? Alright, well let me take a guess," Root said playfully, resting her shot arm on the seat in front of her, the gun still pointing at Pranav. "I know you helped build server rooms on a container ship. I can only _imagine_ that your employers are planning on an expansion. And that _you're_ designing it for them."

"Lady-" Michael interrupted.

"Call me Root," Root interrupted right back with a stern smile. Michael was frantically shrugging, his shoulders so high that they touched his ears when he shook his head.

"Look, I don't want _anything_ to do with them. I was just designing the server rooms, like you said. But things seemed shady, and I knew I shouldn't- I mean, I get paid a lot of money not to- but I had to know what it was they were doing," Michael said, his eyebrows raising, revealing creases in his face. He couldn't have been more than forty, but already there were deep lines in his forehead. Root could tell that this man was someone who had been worrying quite a bit. His mouth contorted like he was in agony as he continued. "And… a-and, they're doing something- I can't tell you about it- but it's bad stuff. Stuff that Americans, _free_ Americans under the democracy of- of the United States- we can't _stand_ for this! We have a _right_ to- to privacy, and to make our own decisions."

He was getting increasingly impassioned as he spoke, his hands in fists, one finger jabbing up at Root like she was a part of the problem. She let go of his shirt collar and gave him a tight smile. No, she wasn't part of Samaritan's network of ruthless assassins, but she was still answering to an artificial super-intelligence that was watching over them. She wasn't sure if Evans just had a problem with the idea of surveillance or if he knew more about Samaritan's methods and plans.

She could tell he was about to speak again and put up a finger to stop him, glancing out the shattered rear window as the Machine spoke to her.

The SUV was trying to follow them, scraping into cars. Fortunately, New York City cab drivers knew better than anyone in the world how to weave in and out of traffic, and being in a small sedan meant that they could fit into spaces that the bullet-proof SUV couldn't.

"I understand," Root told Her, letting her finger drop as she looked down at Evans. He seemed to think she was talking to him. Without removing her eyes from Evans' face, she instructed the driver. "Pranav, turn right in one hundred yards, right again at the next intersection, then left into the parking garage halfway down the block- between the bank and the Italian restaurant with the green and yellow awning."

She could see Evans' face falter.

"Who are you talking to?" he asked. She didn't answer and he started to try to get up from between the seats. "Hey, where are you taking me?"

Pranav slung them around the corner and Root was slammed against the seat. Her wounded arm was jostled as she tried to catch herself and she winced. Evans had fallen backwards against the door.

"I'm not sure yet," she told Evans, smiling down at him through the pain radiating outward from her elbow. She steadied herself and prepared for the next turn, looking down at Evans. He had caught himself against the seat with his forearm and there were bright drops of blood forming on his skin. Root realized that there were shards of glass from the shattered window all over the seat that were now in his arm too.

"So they found out that you disagreed with them and now they want to kill you?" Root asked skeptically, trying to piece together why killing this engineer was necessary. He was a nobody- just a disgruntled employee. And sure, he could go and spread the word that they were in the new age of a surveillance state, but he wouldn't be the first or the only one. And with his frantic stuttering, he wouldn't be the most _effective_ revolutionary. So she wasn't sure what made him worth charging through the streets of New York like a bull in a china shop. Or why that had put his girlfriend in danger.

"I knew they were fucking psychos, but I didn't know I was putting Tasha in danger. Or me. And then this morning, there was this British guy outside my building, saying all these cryptic things and threatening Tasha," Michael explained.

"An old man?" Root asked, thinking of Greer. Michael shook his head.

"No, he was around my age, maybe a little younger," Michael said with a confused shrug. Root nodded. It was almost certainly Jeremy Lambert. She wondered why Lambert was being tasked with threatening Evans.

"They really are always watching. They- they're inside my apartment. And _Tasha's_ apartment…" He took a huge breath, covering his face with his hands. "We can't run from them- they see _everything_. And if they want me dead, that's it. It's impossible to hide from them. And because of me, they're going to kill Tasha too."

"Your girlfriend is with one of the only people on Earth that I would trust with my life," she told him as reassuringly as she could. He removed his hands from his face and looked up at her fearfully. She smiled at him as best she could, thinking of Shaw in the subway station. "And hiding from them? Is not as impossible as you think."

Pranav finally pulled into the parking garage.

"Drive to the very back, by the service elevator," she told him, redirecting him when he started to turn down a row. As soon as the car was in park, Root had her door open and was rounding the car, opening Evans' door and pulling him out of the leg space. His arm was bleeding more than she would have liked but they didn't have time to worry about it at the moment.

"Pranav, get out of the car, you're coming with us," she instructed him, dragging Evans over to the elevator. She looked up, saw the security camera pointed at them, and shot it. Then she pushed the button to call the elevator, wiping some of Evans' blood on the button. Pranav had just stepped behind her.

"What are you doing? They're going to find us," he was panicking. Root turned to him and smiled like he was just precious.

"You said there was an unlocked car?" Root asked the Machine.

"What? What are you talking about?" Pranav asked, looking confused. She could tell he was thinking about running.

"You're going to want to stick with us," Root told him, her nose wrinkling, "I'm your best bet at surviving."

Evans was looking at Root suspiciously. Root was directed to a sedan that had been barely within view of the security camera she'd taken out and she led the other two over to it. She tried the driver's door and found it unlocked, just as she'd been told it would be. She popped the trunk.

"After you," she told Pranav, motioning for him to get in.

"No," he said, shaking his head emphatically, "No way!"

She rolled her eyes and pointed her gun at him.

"Get in the trunk, or I'm going to shoot you," she told him. She could tell that Pranav was trying hard not to cry as he put his shaking hands up in defeat and climbed into the trunk. She motioned with the gun for Evans to follow, pushing him towards the dark opening. He hesitated, but did as he was directed. She followed suit, pushing Evans deeper into the trunk, and pulled the lid shut forcefully.

They were plunged into complete darkness.


	24. Chapter 24

Sorry about that jumbled mess of html I posted before! Big big big thank you to shawishot for pointing it out so quickly! Let's try this again!

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><p>Root could hear both men's rapid breathing and she closed her eyes against the black, slowing her own breathing and trying to hear if there was anyone approaching. They were packed in tight. Root was laying uncomfortably, her bad arm tucked against her chest. Her shins and Pranav's were jammed against one another, Evans' head was beside their knees. She was surprised they'd managed to all fit. They were so close that she could feel the space heating up with their breath immediately. She shifted the gun in her hand.<p>

"Root?" Shaw's voice in her ear made Root's heart pound, faster than it had been beating when she was being shot at by Martine and the other operatives in the SUV.

"You staying out of trouble like I asked?" Root whispered.

"Yeah," Shaw replied, and Root felt a rush of relief. With annoyance and concern, Shaw continued after a pause, "Gotta say, I really wish you were doing the same."

Root's chest ached with affection. She wanted desperately to be near Shaw instead of in the dark trunk.

"I hope you know what you're doing, because the building you just went inside? The parking deck is separate from the rest of the cameras. It's a closed circuit security system inside," Shaw said. "The Machine can't see you in there."

Root understood what the plan was now. The Machine couldn't see what was inside, and that meant neither could Samaritan- at least not without getting operatives in first and hacking the security feeds. That was why She had told Root to put some of Evans' blood on the elevator button. The hope was that Samaritan would assume Root had taken them inside the building to hide, when in reality they were still in the parking deck. And since the car they were currently hidden inside of had been just within view of the camera Root had destroyed, they wouldn't know right away where they had disappeared to.

It was far from a flawless plan- Samaritan _could_ immediately guess what the Machine was up to. But it would probably buy them some time- even if it was only a few seconds. And it gave them the best bet at surviving.

"If She can't see us, neither can they," Root said quietly.

"Yeah, and neither can _I_," Shaw said, the frustration in her voice clear. "What's going on in there?"

"I don't know, because we didn't go inside. We're hiding in the trunk of a car," Root told Shaw.

"You _what_?" Shaw barked in horror. Then after a beat, she sounded immensely impressed. Root could picture her narrowed eyes as she spoke. "That's actually sort of _genius_."

"Hey, who are you talking to?" Evans hissed through the darkness.

"She's crazy- she's going to kill us both," Pranav whispered, his voice rough like he was crying.

"Stop talking," Root commanded them.

"No, I want to know what the hell is going on," Evans said, raising his voice. Root twisted in the tiny space and grabbed in his direction. When she found his throat she closed her fingers hard, feeling the sharp pull of the scabs when he tried to tear her hand from his neck.

"I will tell you what's going on as soon as we're safe. But if you start yelling, they will find us, and we won't make it that far," Root told him harshly, channeling Shaw and all of her brutal efficiency. "So stop talking. Both of you. And let me chat with my friend."

"Sounds like I'm rubbing off on you," Shaw said, and Root could hear how pleased she was. Evans was silent, and Pranav was still snuffling quietly.

"I know how much you like it when I take charge," Root teased, laying the innuendo on thick as she released Evans' throat. "And we both know you've rubbed off on me… once or twice."

"Root," Shaw warned, but Root could hear the smirk in her voice, "You're hiding in a trunk with a number and a cabbie. That blond chick who tried to kill me is pulling into the parking garage as we speak. Now is not the time."

Root smirked to herself and closed her eyes in the dark again, breathing deeply.

"You're going to want to keep your buddies quiet- they're heading straight for the elevator," Shaw said. Root tried to keep calm in the claustrophobic space. Shaw was very still on the other end of the line. "They're almost there. Okay, I can't see them anymore. They're practically on top of you."

Root heard the SUV roar close by and then car doors opened and shut hard, the engine cutting off.

"We've got blood over here," a muffled voice said. Root held her breath. There was a reply that wasn't loud enough for Root to make out what had been said, and then the elevator beeped.

There was silence. She couldn't be sure if they'd gone up in the service elevator or if they were surrounding the car.

"Root, are you still there?" Shaw asked.

"I can't hear anything," Root whispered back. She swallowed hard against the lump of fear forming in her throat.

"So now what? You bust out of the trunk, hope they're gone, and run out of there?" Shaw asked. A realization hit Root that made her stomach plummet.

"About that- I can't open the trunk from the inside," Root told Shaw.

"The Machine put you in a trunk with no escape plan? I'm sending Reese your way," Shaw said angrily. Root squeezed her eyes shut against the panic that was building inside of her. The Machine had to have a plan. The Machine _always_ had a plan.

"Wait, hang on. There's somebody walking your direction. A guy in a suit, talking on a cell phone," Shaw said.

"One of them?" Root asked.

"I don't know. I'm trying to run facial recognition," Shaw muttered, and Root could hear the fear creeping into Shaw's voice more and more. "I'm not as good at this stuff as Finch is. Damn it. Too slow, he's in my blind spot now."

When Shaw continued, Root could tell she was trying to convince both of them. "He's probably just passing by. You know, maybe he has nothing to do with any of this. I'm going to call John and see where he is, send him to you. Okay?"

Just as Root was wondering how this was going to end, she felt the car shift a tiny bit. A door opened and shut.

"Oh my god," Evans muttered breathlessly. It sounded like he was possibly crying now too.

The engine grumbled to life.

"Don't bother, I won't be here," Root told Shaw, her voice tight. The car started to move.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Shaw said. The car must have rolled into view of another camera. The pitch of Shaw's voice escalated. "Does he know you're in there?"

"I don't know," Root admitted.

"Okay. I'm looking up the plates now. The Machine can follow the car, one of us will come and find you," Shaw said.

"Not you," Root said quickly.

"Yeah I got it, I know I'm supposed to stay here," Shaw said fiercely. "I'll send Reese or Lionel. Stay quiet, and they'll get to you as soon as they can, okay?"

"Okay," Root said, trying to brace herself and finding nothing to keep her from sliding into Evans, her knees connecting with his head and her own head bumping into his elbows. She hoped that Shaw hadn't guessed how worried she was.

"Is this a part of the plan?" Evans asked breathlessly. Root shut her eyes. She could feel warm liquid on her head and realized she was pressing into Evans' cut forearm.

"A friend of mine is going to meet us," Root said.

"Meet us _where_?" Evans asked.

"Please. I have a wife, and kids. Two of them. Priyanka and Utsav," Pranav said. His voice was slightly muffled- Root could only guess that Evans' back had slid into him.

"We just have to wait and stay quiet," Root told him.

She kept her eyes shut as whoever was driving continued on to wherever it was that he was going.

They were slung around the trunk for what seemed like an eternity, and Root found herself wishing that Shaw would call her back. It wasn't necessary- there wasn't anything more that Shaw could do, but Root felt an increasing desire to hear Shaw's voice.

Finally, the engine shut off.

Root felt and heard the door open and shut. Her heart beat fast and hard, thunderous in her chest. Every second that passed made her more sure that the trunk was going to be opened and they were all going to be killed. The Machine was silent in her ear, and she wanted to ask Her to connect her to Shaw, ask Her what to do next, ask Her anything. Even though she was as close to these two men as she could get, she felt frighteningly alone.

The trunk clicked and swung open.

Root twisted and pointed her gun up at the man in a baseball cap standing over her, the sun behind him blinding her momentarily.

"Please don't kill me," Pranav cried. The man standing over them didn't answer.

"Have a nice ride?" It was John. Root sighed with relief, shutting her eyes. The Machine hadn't said anything because She didn't need to- everything was fine.

"I've had worse," Root said, playing off her anxiety like she had known all along that she was going to be okay. She tried to get up and her arm hurt from having been awkwardly positioned for so long. Reese saw her wince and reached in to help her get up. Root joked, "I've also had better."

"I'll bet," Reese said with a tired smile. Root looked around as she stepped onto solid ground, trying to determine where they were. Reese turned and saw that she was looking for clues. "We're in Queens. Looks like your man left work early for a dentist appointment."

"We were saved by a _dentist appointment_?" Evans asked, appalled.

"Pranav, do you think you can make it home from here?" Root asked the cab driver who was just standing up, rubbing the back of his head. Reese shut the trunk as Pranav looked around and nodded. "Alright, thanks for playing. I'll see what I can do about getting you a new cab."

Pranav didn't need any more encouragement. Without another word, he hurried down the street.

"Any sign that they knew what was happening?" Root asked John as she took Evans' arm and started walking the opposite direction. The Machine was giving directions again.

"Not yet," Reese replied as he walked beside her. Root followed the Machine's directions to a laundromat and drug Evans into the doorway.

"Stay right here, facing the street. I'm going to get us some disguises," Root told Evans and Reese before ducking inside.

After Root and Evans had zipped up their hooded jackets, all three hurried down the street with their faces shielded as much as possible, Root and Reese on either side of Evans. The Machine led Root on a circuitous route, picking the pocket of a young woman who had two sets of keys- Root left one set undisturbed, as She requested.

When they reached an apartment building, Root unhesitatingly used the keys to let them in. She could tell that Evans was both impressed and concerned as they entered.

"We need to stay put for the time being. They're going to be looking for us. In case they do figure out that we escaped, this gives us somewhere to lay low," Root said, pulling off her hooded jacket and hanging it up in the coat closet. The apartment was nice and fairly large. The Machine told her that the owners had gone abroad and the woman she'd lifted the keys from was the house sitter.

"No. No, we should get back to Manhattan. We're going to get trapped out here," Evans was getting worked up and Root could tell that John was agreed with him.

"It's going to be easy for them to watch the bridges. If we wait aren't we just giving them more time to figure out where we are and set up closer surveillance at the entrances to the city?" John asked.

"Apparently not," Root said, hoping that John would understand that she meant that the Machine was telling her that this was the best plan. The Machine filled Root in further. "Tomorrow morning Fusco will come here and pick us up. Get comfy boys."

John looked at his wrist watch and then at Evans. Root could tell he was dreading this.

"So. You wanna tell us what you did to make your bosses want to kill you?" John asked. Evans fidgeted and looked like he was about to refuse. "Remember that we just saved your life, and are planning on continuing to do so. Make our job a little easier."

"I didn't _do_ anything. I looked into what they were doing with the servers that were being installed, and I have some big reservations about the company. I was talking to my girlfriend about what I learned, and told her that I wanted the public to know too- we _deserve_ to know that our government is spying on us every fucking second of every day," Evans was starting to yell again, sputtering angrily. John gave Root a sidelong glance.

"Mr. Evans, I think there's something else that you're not telling us," Reese said, his brow furrowed. Root had to admit she agreed. She still didn't understand why Samaritan was planning on killing Evans if all he wanted to do was tell people they were being surveilled.

The Machine spoke in her ear, and Root turned as Evans sat down on the couch. She crossed the room and stood over him while John watched from a few feet away. She understood suddenly why Evans was in danger.

"You know where they're building the new servers," she said.

"Yeah, they had me designing the plans for months without knowing where they were going to be, and I kept telling them that location can affect a lot of things, so I wanted to be completely sure that the designs they're building are exactly like they should be for whatever climate they're in," Evans said. "So finally the other day they told me, as a last double check before they installed the servers. They already built the buildings, and I kept telling them that was backwards, but it turns out everything is fine anyway."

John and Root made eye contact and she knew that he too understood why Evans and his girlfriend were in trouble.

"And you told Tasha where they were being built?" Reese asked. Evans shrugged and nodded.

"She's an engineer too, I asked her opinion on why she thought they'd been keeping it a secret from me," he explained. John shut his eyes and turned away. Evans shifted on the couch, looking up at Root. "Tasha's okay, right? You said you trusted the guy she was with."

John looked over his shoulder at Root thoughtfully before he replied.

"She's fine. She's with the police."

"With the police? That's not _fine_, they're probably working with my bosses," Evans yelled, indignant.

"Not the guy she's with. He'll take care of her," Reese promised. He pulled out his cell phone. "In fact, you should call her. It'll give us a chance to talk."

Evans looked hesitant, but took the phone from Reese's hand and followed Reese's gesture to the bedroom. Root sat down on the sofa and after a beat, Reese joined her, sitting with quite a bit of distance between them. Once he heard Evans start to talk, Reese turned to look at her.

"Their numbers are up because of us," he said, his voice rough and quiet. Root nodded.

"Samaritan must know that we're looking for the servers. And that man and his girlfriend are our best bet at figuring out what Samaritan is planning next," Root said. She could feel her heartbeat increasing, her breathing a little shallow with both anxiety and excitement. "They can give us a map of all of the new servers. He _built_ the facilities, and now he's having second thoughts. He could help us completely destroy Samaritan. Maybe the plan all along was to wait until everything was in order, give him all the information he needed at the last second, and then get rid of him to keep him from telling anyone."

"But wouldn't Samaritan have known that we'd figure it out? That if they targeted Evans, we'd come and try to save him? Their plan to have him killed is the only reason we knew he even existed," John asked.

"Maybe they _wanted_ us to figure out why they're trying to kill Evans. Maybe Samaritan is taunting us. Letting us know that they're onto us," Root said. She was feeling increasingly nervous again. If Samaritan knew that they were planning something, things were going to keep getting worse.

"Well at least we have him, and once he's told us where all the facilities are, we're going to have a leg up," John said, trying to be reassuring.

Evans re-entered the room, looking much less worried now than he had a minute before.

John turned to her with a tight smile.

"Do you have someone _you_ should check in with?" he teased. Root knew he was joking to make light of the situation, but she _did_ want to talk to Shaw, and she knew Shaw would want to know they'd made it out of the trunk alive.


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks again for the positive feedback! If you want to listen to what I was listening to when I wrote this, search Caged Animals Ch25 on youtube. Enjoy!

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><p>"How's my favorite fugitive?" Root asked Shaw playfully when the Machine connected her. She sauntered towards the bedroom window, peering out from behind the draperies to look at the street outside.<p>

"Reese found you?" Shaw asked.

"Yes, we're staying in Queens for the night," Root told her.

"What the hell is in Queens?" Shaw asked, and Root could tell she was frustrated by not being able to see what was happening.

"The dentist, apparently," Root replied with a smirk. She could tell that she was only making Shaw more annoyed. "Do me a favor? Tell Lionel to pick us up tomorrow morning. In a van. I'll send you the address."

"Tell him yourself," Shaw said dismissively.

"You'll see him later- he should be stopping by. I told him to bring Bear to you. And dinner," Root explained. She could tell that Shaw wanted to refuse the visit, but the possibility of having the dog back and getting some food was apparently appealing enough that she didn't say anything.

When Root returned from the bedroom, John was sitting in the kitchen with Evans. Reese was leaning over Evans' forearm, removing shards of broken glass with tweezers.

The afternoon sun was shining in on them through the window, and Root felt strangely sad. The apartment was a nice home, with framed photos of a happy couple on the end tables, cheery dish towels, and healthy plants on the window sill beside the breakfast table. The Machine informed her that the potted plants were rosemary and thyme. Root had to look away from them because the normalcy of it made her stomach hurt. She didn't really want this- an apartment with everything just so. But part of her, deep down, still ached because she couldn't have it even if she _did_ want it.

John dropped a piece of glass onto a bloody paper towel set beside them on the walnut table and looked up at Root when she leaned against the marble counter top.

At the rate their little team was going, none of them would live long enough to retire into a life like this. She couldn't imagine any of them going out without guns blazing. And this house would never see that kind of life. They were perverting the home just by staying the night. They'd been here less than twenty minutes and already there was minor surgery being performed at the kitchen table.

The afternoon passed slowly. Evans was anxious, pacing the apartment, but Reese and Root were confident that they were safe, and while they were careful to keep an eye on the cars outside, ensuring that no one was outside watching them, they silently agreed there was nothing to be concerned about.

A few hours passed with the television playing daytime schlock in the background, white noise to disguise Evans' worry. Then the evening news came on and Reese got up from the kitchen table where he was cleaning his gun and looked through the cupboards and refrigerator.

Root put the television on mute and went to help him piece together a meal and they ate what they could find. There were a number of beers in the refrigerator, and John opened one for each of them without asking the other two if they wanted them.

After they'd finished eating their meager dinner, all three of them stayed sitting around the little kitchen table. Evans explained what he knew about Samaritan- that they were in a surveillance state and that the government was watching every movement made by every single person.

"I think they must have a computer processing all that data," Evans said, and paused, swallowing hard like he knew they would think he was crazy when he spoke next. "I think they built a super-computer or something. I think it makes decisions for them, and they tell it who to dig up dirt on and it does it. Just like that."

He snapped his fingers. Reese looked over at Root from the corner of his eye.

"You think I'm crazy, but-"

"No, we don't," Root interrupted him with a tight smile. Evans paused, looking between Reese and Root.

"We believe you," Reese affirmed.

The relief on Evans' face was clear. He looked like he might cry.

"Why? I mean, how do you just believe me?" he asked, shaking his head. "Tasha- I had to explain _everything_. I had to show her all the information that I dug up."

"We've been watching your employers for quite a while now. We've been trying to stop them for months," Reese explained.

"And now, we have a plan to end this. A plan that's possible because of _you_, Michael," Root told him. Evans looked confused and Root leaned forward, putting her good elbow on the table. "I need you to show me all of the sites that you've been working on."

Evans hesitated.

"I don't want to hurt anybody," Evans said, realizing what sort of plan the two people with guns might be involved with.

"This may be our only chance to stop them. Because you're right- every day, they control more of the government. _Talking_ is not going to stop them. You'll just be labeled as a terrorist and shipped off to Rikers," Root told him, her eyes darkening significantly. She could tell she'd convinced him before he'd nodded.

Reese got up from the table to get himself another beer. While they were talking, it had gotten dark outside. Evans was looking increasingly tired, and the Machine told Root that he'd been up most of the previous night working, just as he'd done the night that Root watched him from across the street. She told him to take the bedroom, and he gratefully headed to bed.

Reese checked on him twice, saw that he was fast asleep the second time, and got two more beers from the fridge, going to sit on the couch and holding one of the beers out towards Root, still sitting in the kitchen. She got up, taking her gun with her, and came to sit down the sofa from him.

On the television, there was a cop drama playing silently, exaggerated muzzle flares punctuating long scenes between two of the central characters, gazing longingly at one another.

Root and Reese sat at opposite ends of the couch in silence for a few minutes, watching the action play out on the screen.

"I didn't think I would ever like you," Reese said suddenly. He drank from his beer. She looked over at him, and he picked up the remote control, turning the TV off.

"And I thought you were just Harry's goon. Things change," Root replied with a smile, raising her bottle to him. Reese nodded and then leaned forward, his face becoming more somber.

"She told me something once," John said. Root tilted her head questioningly. She knew immediately that he was talking about Sameen, before he'd even continued. She could tell from the sad little smile on his face. "She told me that she's all about the one-night-only kind of relationship. Three nights tops. I guess that's if she really enjoys it."

Root smiled back at him, matching his sorrowful expression, looking at the gun in her hands.

"Are you trying to warn me that I'm overstaying my welcome? Brace for impact?" Root asked after a long pause, her smile tight. She flexed her fingers, watching the way the scabs and scar tissue pulled and moved over her knuckles.

"No," Reese said, his voice low. Root kept looking at her hands.

"I'm telling you that I think you mean a lot to her- she's breaking her rules for you," Reese continued. Root looked at him cautiously, saw the melancholy in his eyes. "I think you're good for her. And I'm glad that she has you."

"I'm glad I have her," Root said, surprised at how choked her words sounded, her eyes pricking with tears. She swallowed hard, blinking them away as best she could. "And I know that it must seem strange. I know that we're both… well, unconventional, to say the least."

She laughed through her words, trying to conceal just how much she was feeling. John was still watching her with that same downcast smile on his face.

"Like I said- I never thought I would like you, but iShaw/i likes you," Reese said, worrying at the paper label on the bottle in his hands. His smile shifted to something less upset. "I never thought I'd like _her_, but she's saved my skin more than once."

He looked at the television, the blank screen. After a beat, he said, "She's sort of a… a little sister to me."

Root scoffed and he looked at her sternly.

"They're my family," Reese said. They sat in silence for a long couple of minutes before he spoke again.

"I've lost people I care about. Once, I didn't say how I felt, and I will always regret that. Who knows, maybe I could have saved her," Reese said, taking another drink. Root mirrored his action and then tilted her glass bottle, watching the way the beer caught the light from the lamp on the end table. Reese sighed. "And then, I… I _did_ tell someone that I cared for them. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough to stop the son of a bitch who shot her."

"Detective Carter?" Root asked sympathetically. Reese finished the rest of his beer in a couple long gulps.

"I guess the Machine's probably told you everything there is to know," Reese said, and she could hear the faint bitterness in his voice.

"I try not to ask Her things like that anymore. One thing that I've learned from Harold? Respecting a person's privacy can go a long way," she said, suddenly very tired. "Why are you telling me all this?"

She heard Reese take a deep breath, and thought she could hear a little shake in it. She couldn't look at him.

"I've learned that we shouldn't wait. With our jobs, you never know what might happen next," John said, meeting her eyes darkly. Root felt sick. It was hard enough to recognize this fact on her own. Having John say it, out loud, just made it worse. It was always possible that there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

John got up from the couch, avoiding looking her in the eye as he went to the kitchen and put his empty bottle in the recycling bin under the sink, following the action by cleaning up the other bottles from the table. Root watched him, then looked at the bottle in one of her hands, the gun in the other. Reese turned back from the kitchen and, still without looking at Root, headed towards the bedroom.

"I'm going to check on Evans," he said. Root got up and poured the rest of her beer down the sink, wondering what Sameen was doing in the subway station. She almost called her, but then Reese was returning from the bedroom with a pillow and two blankets. "He's out like a light."

Root nodded and watched John put one of the blankets on the sofa and then put the pillow on the ground near the door, dropping the blanket beside it. She realized that he was giving her the couch to sleep on and thought about stopping him but he'd already laid down on the ground, checking his gun and resting it beside him.

She turned off the lamp on the end table and laid down on the sofa. It was a little too short for her to lay comfortably, and she missed the warmth of Sameen's body. If she was going to sleep on something that was too small to accommodate her, she'd rather it be too small because she was sharing the space.

She watched passing cars cast shifting shadows on the wall and waited for sleep to come, but knew she wouldn't be able to sleep any time soon.

"I'm sorry that you've lost people," Root said into the darkness. She wasn't sure if Reese was still awake. He didn't reply for what felt like an eternity. Another car's headlights threw bright streaks of yellow across the room.

"She says she doesn't care about people," Reese said finally. Root knew again that he was talking about Shaw and wondered where he was going with this. "I used to wish I could be like her. She says she has a personality disorder. But the thing is, she diagnosed herself. That's not reliable. It becomes sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy."

He paused, and Root waited to see if he would continue.

"I don't mean that I think she's a healthy, well-adjusted member of society. She isn't. But she's less messed up than she thinks she is," Reese said. Root turned her head to look in his direction. He was laying flat on his back. "She _does_ care."

"I know," Root said quietly.

"Does _she_ know?" Reese asked, his head turning slightly towards her. In the dark, she couldn't see his face, and knew he couldn't see hers either. She wasn't sure how to answer.

"I think she's starting to," Root told him. He turned his head back to look straight up at the ceiling.

—

The next morning Root was sitting at the kitchen table when Fusco pulled up outside the building in a windowless van.

The plan was for Fusco to leave Root on the shadow map in Manhattan so she could take care of some errands, then take Reese and Evans to the safe house where Tasha was in hiding. Root would do some regrouping at the subway station (if she could make it back there undetected) and then she would take Evans and Tasha out of New York to locate the server warehouses that Evans had helped design. Tasha would be dropped off somewhere remote to stay put while Evans and Root worked their way from location to location to plan the coming strike on Samaritan.

Fusco came up the front steps in a baseball cap and knocked on the door. Root let him in.

"I didn't want to come in a police van- thought that'd seem suspicious," he said as he entered. Reese was looking at Evans' forearm on the couch where Root had slept. Fusco spotted them. "Never a dull moment with you guys, huh?"

"How was Shaw?" Root asked, trying to sound casual as she went to the coat closet and got the jackets she'd stolen from the laundromat the day before.

"Pissed off," Fusco said as if this was a stupid question. He continued, offended. "And I'm doing great, driving around to pick you guys up, smuggling you from borough to borough, hiding people with hit squads after them. Life's just peachy."

She smiled at him unsympathetically.

"Alright, let's get out of here," Reese said, finishing taping bandages over the superficial cuts and standing up. He grabbed his baseball cap from the kitchen counter and pulled it on, taking one of the hooded jackets from Root and tossing it to Evans.


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks, as always, for the endless positivity! Your Reviews and Favorites etc are always appreciated. Chapter Twenty Seven will be up Wednesday or Thursday, so check back then! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Root spent hours following the Machine's instructions. She was tired from sleeping poorly on the couch in the Queens apartment, and found her mind straying back to the conversation she'd had with John the night before, even as she dealt with illegal arms dealers, stole the dry cleaning from outside of an apartment, and carjacked a dark blue four door sedan- nothing flashy, an intentionally ordinary make and model.<p>

When the late afternoon rolled around, the Machine told Root to head to the subway station. She called Reese to tell him where she was going, and was pleased and amused that he understood immediately that she meant that she was going to see Shaw, and would prefer it if the others would stay away. Evans and Tasha were safely tucked away for the night, and John said that he was going to stay with them, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious because Evans still seemed anxious. He then told her with a smirk in his voice that he would tell Fusco he didn't need to bring Shaw dinner.

Root hid the car in a nearby parking garage that She pointed her to, and then made her way through Manhattan on foot again, stopping in a pet store to pick up a dog toy for Bear that required him to figure out how to get treats out of the center. She knew that Shaw was probably antsy being in the subway station, and that repeatedly ending their conversations on an uncertain note would probably have left her irritated. With Shaw, even though it had been a full day since the transgression had occurred, Root knew that she should be prepared to apologize.

Then the Machine gave her a phone number, which she called up, not sure what to expect. It was the Angus Club Steakhouse. Root fumbled for a second when she was asked if the order was for pick-up or delivery, and then the Machine gave her an address for the steakhouse to deliver to and directed her a few blocks out of her way. When she was asked if she wanted the usual, she said yes, not sure what that meant. She made her way to the address, curious to see what She was leading her to. The building was far from the nicest on the block.

It ended up being the apartment of a drug dealer and his 'coworkers', who were just starting a gunfight with some Aryan Brotherhood goons. She let them shoot one another and then entered the apartment, shooting the remaining drug dealer in the knees and exploring the apartment while waiting for the delivery person from the steakhouse to arrive. She wondered if whoever was on their way for 'the usual' was coming for drugs or money or something else entirely.

Root went into the bedroom and found that the entirety of the double bed was covered in stacks of money. The Machine pointed her to a duffle bag from the dresser, and she started scooping stacks of hundred dollar bills into it. Once she'd tested the weight with her good arm, she filled the pockets of her jacket as well, then put the bag down on the coffee table, sitting on the couch to count it while she waited for whatever was coming next.

There was a knock on the door, and Root picked her gun up, taking a deep breath. She looked through the peephole and found herself looking at the magnified face of a kid no older than eighteen, an insulated cooler bag in his hands. She couldn't see any sort of weapons, so she opened the door a little, just enough that he could see her but not into the apartment where the bodies of the drug dealers were laying haphazardly.

He looked confused, and tried to look past her into the apartment, then checked the number beside the door like he thought he was at the wrong place.

"Uh- did you order food? Is Julien here?" he asked.

"Yes, I called in the order," Root said firmly, still trying to size up what this kid was doing with the drug dealers. He looked as anxious as she felt, but seemed to decide to just get it over with. He unzipped the bag and started to pull out a couple of takeout boxes in plastic bags.

"Open it," Root said stiffly, her gun just out of view. The kid looked startled, but opened the top box with fumbling hands, almost dropping the rest of the containers.

Root shifted the pistol in her hand.

The lid popped up and she saw that inside, there was a large sirloin steak. She blinked in surprise as the kid explained what each box contained, double checking the receipt as he went. A twenty two ounce sirloin, a rib eye, grilled chilean sea bass, asparagus, broccoli, steak fries. Root swallowed and flicked the safety on the gun, stuffing it into her jacket pocket.

It was food. Nice food, from one of the highest rated steakhouses in the city. She never stopped being impressed by the Machine.

She paid the kid in cash and tipped him two hundred dollars to leave the insulated bag as well. As soon as she was sure that the kid was well on his way, she made her way downstairs, loaded down with food and the large bag of cash.

Her elbow grew sore as she reached the last few blocks.

The closer that Root got to the entrance of the subway station, the more she could feel a smile growing on her face.

She shifted the bags she was carrying as she made her way down the steps. Before she had rounded the corner, Bear came sprinting towards her, hackles raised and ears up like he was ready to attack. When he saw that it was Root he immediately relaxed, sniffing with interest at the food she was carrying.

She stepped off the bottom step and rounded the corner with Bear in tow.

Shaw was exiting the subway car with the flip knife in hand, looking ready to go to battle. Root smiled playfully at her and watched Shaw's determined expression melt into mild annoyance and surprise, approaching Root with interest. Root couldn't help but note how similar Shaw and the dog were- always ready to fight. And then once they realized that there wasn't a threat and it was something they knew and liked, they could flip their internal switch back into relaxation almost instantaneously.

"You shouldn't be carrying stuff that's heavy with your arm healing," Shaw scolded her, taking the bags from her hands. She sounded and looked annoyed, but Root was touched by the sentiment nonetheless.

"Nice to see you too," Root teased as Shaw turned and walked back into the subway car with the bags.

Shaw quickly put them down on the desk and turned to shut the laptop sitting on the built-in seats before Root could see it. The action did not escape Root. She remembered the day before when Shaw had closed a window she'd been looking at and wondered what Shaw was up to.

Root still had the duffle bag of money over her shoulder, and tried to lift it off over her head but her elbow was sore from carrying the food. She was dismayed that she felt weak. It took Shaw no time to step forward and help, lifting the bag and then holding it in her hands, looking at it curiously as she weighed its contents.

"Drug money," Root said by way of explanation. Shaw raised her eyebrows.

"Of course it's drug money," she said under her breath, and put it down in Finch's desk chair. Then she turned back towards the remainder of the bags. Bear was sniffing at them with excitement.

"Los," Shaw commanded him, and Bear immediately withdrew his nose. He came over to her feet and sat down, pushing his head against her hip so she would pet him. "He's been going nuts. I think he got even less exercise with Fusco than he does when he's stuck down here."

Root looked at him sympathetically and went to the table, opening one of the bags and handing Shaw the dog toy and treats.

"Marcia from the pet store tells me this is great for bored, smart dogs," she said with a little smile and tilt of her head. Shaw looked genuinely pleased, and that made Root's stomach flip. Maybe Shaw wouldn't be angry about the limited and stressful conversations they'd had in the last thirty six hours after all.

Root watched Shaw unwrap the dog toy and put some treats inside of it. The dog was watching the process as well as soon as he smelled the treats. When Shaw threw it out the door of the subway car he lunged after it, chewing with vigor. Both Root and Shaw could tell that it was going to take him a while to figure out how to make the treats fall out.

"I also brought something for _you_," Root said, looking over at Shaw. Shaw was watching Bear with the smallest hint of a smile on her face, tucking her lower lip into her mouth when she looked over at Root. Root tipped her head to the side, one side of her mouth curving into a smirk as she stepped over to the table and the insulated bag.

She unzipped it and pulled out the bags of food. Shaw immediately turned fully to look at Root and stepped towards her when she saw the name on the bags.

"Are you kidding me? This place has the best sirloin in the city," Shaw said, impressed and pleased. Root pursed her lips to keep from smiling wider.

"The Machine has good taste," she joked. She could see Shaw's eyebrows pull together and her mouth twisted down at the corners for a moment before she masked her dismay with a blank expression. Root wondered what had caused the shift, but Shaw had looked away, out towards Bear, who was snuffling excitedly at the toy Root had bought him, still desperately trying to work out how to get the treats from inside.

"It's too bad they don't make those for humans," Root said, stepping closer behind Shaw. Root joked, "I need to find you something like that to keep you from going crazy."

She could sense Shaw stiffening, and then Shaw turned back to Root, stoic.

"I thought that was _you_. Isn't that the Machine's plan?" Shaw asked, her words bitingly blunt. Root was stung and confused, thinking to herself that they'd already cleared this up. She recoiled like a snake and then struck back.

"For someone who doesn't have feelings, you sure need to be reassured a lot," Root said bitterly. Even with all of her stoicism, Shaw's eyes gave away how hurt she felt. They stared at one another for a few long seconds, and then Root looked down at her hands, turning away, letting Shaw win the stare-down.

"I told you before- I'm here because I want to be here," Root said, and then paused. "Would you rather I stay away?"

Shaw didn't answer.

Root nodded, then looked at Shaw, who was chewing on her bottom lip.

"I guess it doesn't matter either way. I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm not sure when I'm going to be able to get back," Root told Shaw. She watched Shaw's eyebrows scrunch together in concern.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Wherever Evans says that Samaritan is," Root told her. They were both quiet for a minute. Root could tell that Shaw's mind was racing through the possibilities of what that meant. Root started towards the stairs. She had a feeling that Shaw would stop her, and as immature as it was, she wanted to make her do so. She'd only made it a few steps across the platform when Shaw spoke.

"Fusco brought me beer yesterday. I saved it…" Shaw's voice bounced off the hard surfaces of the subway station. Root paused and looked over her shoulder towards Shaw. "I figured I didn't need to be_ completely_ pathetic and drink alone."

Root remained still, waiting for Shaw to saw something more akin to an invitation. Shaw took a few steps toward Root.

"Stay," Shaw said, more like a question than a statement, moving to stand in front of Root. Despite the note of annoyance in Shaw's voice, Root could feel her eyebrows tug upwards, giving away the hurt she felt. Shaw looked into her eyes hard. After a few beats, where Root could tell Shaw was trying to find something more to say and coming up empty, Shaw took a deep breath. "You look tired."

Root figure this was as close to a 'please' or an apology as she was going to get, so she smiled a small, sad smile and gave a little nod of her head.

Shaw put a hand on Root's good elbow and gave it a reassuring squeeze before heading back to the subway car, passing by the dog. Bear was shaking the toy vigorously, still having a great time. Root watched him for a moment and then followed Shaw.

"So what? You stopped by a steakhouse on the way back from busting a drug dealer?" Shaw asked. Root could tell she was trying to dispel the tension between them and found herself smiling.

"Something like that," she said lightly, hoping she sounded more carefree than she felt. Shaw opened the box on top and when she saw the steak inside, she turned to give Root a look like she wanted to kiss her she was so happy.

"Your robot knows its stuff," she said sarcastically. Root closed the distance between them, stepping squarely into Shaw's space as she smiled playfully down at the shorter woman.

"Not a robot, remember?" Root scolded with a smirk, her voice low. Shaw cracked a smile and leaned against the table, reaching out and grabbing the pocket of Root's jacket. She pulled Root into her. Just as Shaw was about to kiss Root, she paused and looked confused. She looked at her hand in Root's pocket and pulled out a stack of bills. Root took the money from her pockets and tossed it onto the table. Shaw watched with amusement as the hundred dollar bills hit the table top. While Shaw was still shaking her head, Root put a hand on the shorter woman's cheek to still the motion and kiss her.


	27. Chapter 27

Shaw was tender and longing, keeping Root close against her while they kissed. When they broke apart, Root saw Shaw's eyes dart over to the food surreptitiously and she chuckled.

"I know you want to eat. I wouldn't dream of standing in your way," she joked, starting to back away. Shaw grabbed the pockets of her jacket again and tugged them back together to give her a quick kiss, then let Root move away.

Root was surprised when Shaw laid the blanket out on the platform, retrieving the beer from the fridge and the food from the desk, like they were having a picnic. Root was even more surprised when Shaw left the lights in the subway car on but turned off the rest of the lights and lit an emergency candle between them. It became increasingly obvious that Sameen was avoiding looking directly at Root, like she knew that what she was doing was uncharacteristic and she didn't want to be asked about it. This, of course, meant that Root was dying to say something. It took all of her willpower to hold her tongue.

They sat down a little stiffly. Neither one of them quite knew what they were doing.

When Root opened the fish, Shaw was skeptical.

"You don't want steak?" she asked. Root shrugged.

"I wouldn't want to deprive you or the dog," Root said with a smirk, she could see Shaw's eyes lingering on her mouth. "Plus, red meat's not exactly good for you."

Shaw raised her eyebrows and scoffed.

"Says the one who told me we wouldn't live long enough for me to disappoint her," Shaw said. She swallowed hard and then pursed her lips. "But I guess I've already disproven _that_ theory."

Root reached out and put her hand on Shaw's knee, scooting closer to her. Shaw smiled tightly, and Root smiled back lightheartedly when she saw the apology in Shaw's eyes.

"Maybe we should work on our optimism," Root joked. She was pleased when Shaw softened, tilting her head side to side in amusement.

The tension seemed to have been dispelled somewhat, and as they started to eat, Root felt warm with pleasure. They may not have been in a well-kept Queens apartment with plants in the window, but they would have their own normal. That was almost _better_.

Their conversation ebbed and flowed naturally, to Root's relief. Shaw seemed to have gotten over her annoyance at being left by herself in the subway station wondering if Root and Reese were alright. They were positioned comfortably, facing one another, with one of Shaw's legs extended towards Root so that she could tuck her cold toes under Root's thigh.

Bear eventually came over with the toy and dropped it in Shaw's lap. She congratulated him when she realized that he'd figured out how to get the treats out, and gave him part of one of the steaks. Root liked watching Shaw interact with the dog. It was clear that Bear adored her and treated her like his alpha dog, laying down at her side contentedly while he ate, then immediately going to his bed when he'd finished eating and Shaw sent him away with a single word.

Eventually, the conversation turned to men, and why Shaw had decided she didn't want or need a relationship with one.

"Most men aren't man enough for me," Shaw said, half-joking as she chewed her bite of steak. "They always want to talk about their feelings and be all romantic and crap. Not for me."

She sounded almost disgusted. Root raised her eyebrow as she looked at Shaw over the stub of a candle that was lit between them in the darkened subway car, and felt Shaw's toes moving reflexively under her leg.

"This isn't romantic?" Root teased. Shaw's eyes narrowed in irritation and she drank a swig of beer, watching Root's mouth curve into a smirk.

"Okay, but you don't suck," Shaw said like this should be obvious. Root raised her eyebrows.

"Honey, you're making me blush," Root said, the words dripping with sarcasm. Shaw licked at her teeth inside her mouth to get food out of them as she looked at Root, annoyed. And underneath that annoyance, apologetic.

"You know what I mean," Sameen said. Her tone was still irritated. Root didn't respond, pushing her food around the takeaway box with her fork. She knew better than to expect Shaw to compliment her. And she _did_ know what Shaw meant, probably better than Shaw herself did.

Root knew that Shaw was okay that this was romantic because Shaw was with someone she actually wanted to be romantic with, as opposed to all of the men who had thought Shaw cared about them the way they cared about her.

Root smiled at the woman sitting across from her.

"Yeah, I do," she said.

Root found herself thinking about her conversation with John again. Shaw thought of herself as incapable of feeling anything, but that was simply untrue. She was like a petulant child sometimes, or a teenager with a bad attitude, but that didn't mean she didn't feel things. And despite being hard to understand at times, Root cared for her deeply.

Shaw started to jab at her steak again with her fork, but paused, looking at Root and cautiously smiling at her after a beat.

"You know… Tomorrow… I could go _with_ you," Shaw said. "I wouldn't be in the city; that blonde chick wouldn't be there to recognize me. They wouldn't even know I was there."

Root wanted to say yes. She wanted _desperately_ to say yes. Wanted to tell Shaw to come with her.

"I'd be your back-up. I could make sure you're safe," Shaw said. Then she seemed to realize what she'd said and back-tracked. "I mean, I could make sure Evans is safe."

"Someone needs to stay here. With Finch gone, John needs someone here at the computer to help him," Root said. Shaw looked angry.

"This isn't what I signed up for. I'm supposed to be out saving the numbers," she said.

"This _is_ saving the numbers," Root told her. Shaw looked defeated and pissed about it, and Root felt her throat tighten. Shaw jabbed at her steak again and ate a bite. Even the way she chewed, her jaw moving hard and fast, betrayed her absolute frustration.

Root put her food aside and moved towards Shaw on the blanket, watching Shaw watch her. Shaw slowly lowered her own food container to the ground as Root got closer.

"If Finch was here, I'd take you with me," Root said quietly. "It would be nice to be with you outside. It'd be like old times— you'd be my traveling companion again."

Shaw kept chewing, then swallowed hard.

"Someday we'll do it. We'll go to St. Louis and you can take me to get the steak that's better than sex," Root said gently, teasing half-heartedly. The hint of a smile appeared on Shaw's face and she raised an eyebrow. Root looked at her questioningly, watching Shaw's jaw tighten, trying to stop smiling. "What?"

Shaw lost a little control of her face when Root spoke, the corners of her mouth curving upward. She pursed her lips.

"I'm thinking it might not live up to the memory," Shaw said, her dark eyes glinting even as she smiled, trying hard to suppress her grin. Root looked back at her, not sure what she meant. Shaw smirked and poked at her steak. "I've had some experiences since then that have proven that uh… that I was wrong."

Root's eyebrows raised and she smiled playfully.

"Oh, is that so?" Root asked, putting a hand on Shaw's knee. Shaw looked at Root's hand, still smirking. "Must be tough for you to admit you were wrong."

Shaw shrugged, amused.

"_That_," she said, her voice low as she leaned towards Root, "Is one thing I'm happy I was wrong about."

Root took Shaw's face in her hands, drawing them together to kiss her. Shaw kissed Root back adoringly, pushing her box of food aside and moving closer to Root, forcing her to lean back on the blanket. Root laid back, her sore arm resting on the ground as Shaw moved to be above her. Root let her hand drift up Shaw's arm, feeling the strong muscles that were supporting her weight.

Relief came with the reassuring familiarity of Shaw's hips, weighing heavy against Root's own. Shaw's thigh slipped between Root's legs and Root pushed up into her.

Sameen broke the kiss, looking down at Root with that same look in her eyes that Root didn't think she would ever get used to. The look that was so gentle and happy and affectionate, that Shaw probably didn't know was there when she looked at Root. Shaw pulled her lower lip into her mouth.

"I'm glad you're back," Shaw said, softly, so softly that the words were barely more than an exhale. Root could feel the rush of electric happiness, her face hot with pleasure, her chest tight.

"I'm glad to _be_ back," Root said playfully. Shaw smiled a little, and then looked over Root's face before speaking again.

"I was worried about you," she said. The words were somehow, impossibly, smaller than her last. Root ran her fingers through Shaw's hair, pushing it out of her face.

"I'm sorry," Root said. And she was. She _liked_ that Shaw worried about her, but she wished that Shaw didn't _have_ to be. She wished they could have more days like this- playing with the dog, eating good food together. Staying safe.

Shaw's eyes were bright, shining in the dim light of the candle. Then she bent her head and kissed Root again, her soft lips on Root's mouth.

When she trailed kisses down Root's neck, Root pulled her up again, wanting to feel their mouths connecting once more. Satisfied, she ran her hand up under Shaw's shirt, finger tips trailing across her back, and delighted in the shiver that ran down Shaw's spine at the contact.

"You know," Shaw growled between kisses, "I was being honest before, when I said you looked tired."

Root smirked and shook her head.

"I can't say I'm surprised. Sleeping on a couch and bunking with John isn't quite like this," she said playfully, kissing Shaw.

"Not gonna lie- I don't love the thought of you bunking with Reese," Shaw joked.

Root smiled and continued. "I also spent quite a while trapped in the trunk of a car. And bossing those guys around isn't half as fun as bossing _you_ around. I'm due for a little R&R."

Shaw smirked, kissing Root again and pulling the taller woman's lower lip into her mouth, gently dragging her teeth over the sensitive skin.

"Well, I don't know about _rest_, but I'm happy to help with _relaxation_," Shaw said. Root had never heard Shaw say something so seductively, and her breath caught in her throat at the arousing sound of Sameen's words. Shaw knew exactly what she was doing, smirking and dipping her head to nip at Root's neck.

A growl emitted from deep in Shaw's throat when Root's hand made its way back down her back, pulling their hips together. She shifted her feet and bumped one of the takeout boxes. Half of Shaw's steak lay uneaten inside, forgotten.


	28. Chapter 28

Root breathed heavily as Shaw kissed her throat again, their legs fitting together like two perfectly cut pieces of a puzzle. When Shaw exhaled into her ear, Root's hips pushed up into the shorter woman of their own volition.

Sameen met Root's mouth again, and Root ran her hands through Shaw's hair to the back of her head, enjoying taking her time as they continued to kiss.

It felt good to be back. Like she was home. Root thought that she should have been alarmed that she felt that way, or at least _surprised_, but she wasn't really. She was just content. Everything about this was comfortable- Shaw's soft lips on her own, the firm musculature and feminine curves warm against her. She couldn't help but think that maybe they really _were_ good for each other, just like John had said.

When Shaw bit down on Root's lower lip, her hand sliding up under Root's shirt, the taller woman lost her train of thought and pushed up into Shaw. Sameen sat up and pulled her shirt off, then pulled at Root's, forgetting for a moment that Root's arm needed to be handled gently. Root winced.

"Sorry," Shaw muttered, wrapping her warm fingers around Root's forearm. Their eyes met and Root could see that they had both noticed simultaneously the kindness and honesty of the apology. Before Shaw could regret her emotions, Root finished pulling her shirt off as fast as she could and pulled Shaw back down against her, kissing her hard.

Root palmed Shaw's breast, smirking against the shorter woman's mouth when her hips ground desperately into Root's.

It wasn't long before Shaw was kicking her pants off and unbuttoning Root's, scrambling to get them down off of her hips, then sitting back on her heels and looking down over Root's body. Root felt a moment of self-consciousness, looking down her own ghostly pale body at Shaw's perfect tan skin and toned physique. But when Root saw the look in Shaw's eyes, that exceedingly pleased glint, she realized that it was probably the same look as in Root's own eyes.

There was a hint of a smile on Shaw's face when she leaned back over, kissing Root's bare stomach, running her hands over Root's thighs and then up her chest, making her way back up Root's torso to capture her lips again, her tan thigh moving back between Root's white legs. Root sighed into Shaw's mouth at the contact, and Shaw smoothly reached beneath the taller woman to unhook her bra, her hands self-assured on Root's body.

They moved together, finding their rhythm perfectly, only pausing when Root reached down to remove their underwear. She wanted those last layers of clothing keeping them apart to be gone. It had only been a day since she'd last seen Shaw, but Root couldn't wait any longer. She needed full contact between them. When their bodies reconnected Root felt relieved and pleased that they could so quickly find their rhythm again, moving together desperately.

It was Shaw who eventually faltered first- her head falling to Root's shoulder. And it was the little noises of pleasure from Shaw that sent Root over the edge as well, her nails digging into Shaw's hip to keep her bucking hips where they needed to be.

Shaw kissed her breathlessly and collapsed on top of her, chest slick with sweat.

The subway station was silent except for their slowing breathing. There was a strangeness to the quiet that Root couldn't place. She lifted her head tiredly, propping herself up a little with her good arm, her shot arm around Shaw's back. There didn't seem to be anything out of place. And it wasn't so much that Root felt like something was _wrong_. It was more like there was something _missing_.

She waited to see if the Machine would fill her in.

No explanation came.

Root's stomach churned unpleasantly as she realized that the something that was missing was _Her_. The Machine wasn't talking at all. This wasn't all that unusual given the last few weeks of virtual radio silence, but in the last twenty four hours the tide had seemed to turn. Root had already forgotten the full-body ache that she had lived with while she was separated from the Machine. Root could only hope that the quiet now was because she was being given tonight to simply be with Shaw.

That didn't seem likely.

She let her head rest on the blanket again, shutting her eyes against the feeling of impending doom that was creeping in through her pores.

Shaw lifted her head questioningly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her perfect mouth turning down at the corners. Root was surprised Sameen had picked up on her discomfort so quickly.

"Nothing," she lied, smiling weakly. Shaw looked at her disapprovingly, trailing her middle finger along Root's collar bone, following the ridge from the base of Root's neck out to her shoulder. Root watched Shaw's eyes follow her finger, then snap back up to meet Root's gaze.

"Is it something I did?" Shaw asked. She sounded curious, trying to place what she might have done wrong. Root ran her hand down to the dip of Shaw's waist.

"No," Root reassured her. Shaw's eyes narrowed a little but she didn't ask anything further. Root knew it was stupid, but she wished that Shaw _had_ kept pressing her, although she wasn't sure why. It wasn't like it was going to help anything for Shaw to know that Root missed the Machine.

They lay in silence for a long time.

Root kept thinking about the fact that she was going to have to leave again tomorrow. She didn't want to go again so soon, blindly hoping that she'd make it back in one piece. She had no way of knowing if the Machine would start talking again once Root and Evans were on the move. It wouldn't have concerned her if she could be sure that she wouldn't be alone.

Shaw lay her palm flat against Root's breast.

"I can feel your heart. It's practically beating out of your chest," Shaw said. Root could tell Shaw was frustrated and reached up to brush her dark hair out of her face.

"I just wish I didn't have to leave," Root said quietly, smiling a tight, almost bitter smile. She wanted to do whatever it took to give the Machine the freedom She needed (and _deserved_) but that didn't mean she had to want to leave Shaw. Shaw nodded her head.

"Yeah, me too. Have you heard anything about Finch?" She asked. Root shook her head.

"No, but if something had happened we would know," Root told her. She did believe that was true, but that didn't mean that Harold was completely safe, it just meant that he wasn't in imminent danger. Root wondered where he was now. Shaw had tucked her bottom lip between her teeth again, looking at Root despondently.

"This whole 'caring about people' thing kind of sucks sometimes," Shaw said after a long pause. It sounded like she was trying to make a joke, but nothing in her face read as playful. She blinked and looked away when Root gave her a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sure he's fine," Root said as reassuringly as she could.

"No you're not," Shaw grunted, rolling off of Root to lay beside her. She bumped a takeout box with her foot and pushed it away from herself. Root furrowed her eyebrows and turned onto her side to face Shaw again, who was folding her hands behind her head, laying on her back.

"No, I'm not," Root said, annoyed. She put a hand on top of Shaw's leg, letting her fingers drift to Shaw's inner thigh. She forced a playful tone. "But we're working on our optimism, remember?"

"Yeah, that sounds like us," Shaw said sarcastically, her eyes on the pipes above their heads.

"She has a plan," Root told her. "You have to trust Her."

"I don't know that I do," Shaw said, her voice low. She let her head fall to the side then, looking at Root sorrowfully. She sighed. "But I trust _you_."

Root's heart fluttered.

"I'm a part of Her," Root said, shaking her head. Shaw had it backwards and Root suddenly felt like she needed to make Shaw understand. "I'm fallible. But the Machine… she's perfect."

Shaw kissed her, and Root could tell that it was largely to make her stop talking.

"I don't care," Sameen said when she pulled away, "I trust _you_. That has to be enough."

Root rolled onto her back again on the blanket. She hoped it would be enough, but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that told her that it probably wouldn't be.

Shaw got up silently and pulled her underwear and shirt on, cleaning up the leftover food. Root watched her for a minute and then slowly got up as well, starting to get dressed. Root picked up the blanket and folded it, clutching it against her stomach, waiting for Shaw to come back from the subway car where she'd taken the boxes. She didn't reappear, so Root went and looked in the door.

She was settling into one of the chairs with the laptop. Root leaned against the metal doorframe and watched her for a minute but Shaw only glanced her direction once.

"What are you reading?" Root asked quietly, the blanket still held against her stomach. Shaw shook her head.

"Nothing," she lied. Root waited another minute.

"I didn't sleep well last night, so I think I'm going to go to bed," Root said finally. She hoped that Shaw would take the hint and follow suit, but Shaw just nodded.

"Ok. I'll try not to wake you up when I lay down," Shaw said.

"You don't have to do that. I _want_ to lay in bed with you," Root said, feeling a little lost when Shaw only spared her a moment's glance and a nod.

Root waited to see if Shaw would say anything else, and when she didn't, Root turned and walked towards the beds feeling sorry for herself.

They were still pushed together the way that they had been when Root left.

Root expected to fall asleep immediately, but found that even with the subway station dark, the only light coming from inside the car itself, she didn't feel comfortable and couldn't drift off. She turned onto her side and closed her eyes, breathing deeply, and lost track of time as she waited for sleep to overtake her.

It was a long time later when she heard movement. She hadn't fallen asleep yet, and she didn't know how long she'd been laying there awake. After a few minutes, Root sensed the darkness deepening. When the cot shifted, Root opened her eyes to black. For a moment, she thought of the trunk of the car she'd been hidden in with Evans and Pranav, and she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath to remind herself that she wasn't there anymore. She was home in the subway station.

The fear wouldn't subside. Fear of the remembrance of the trunk- the uncertainty of whether she would get back to Shaw. And fear of Shaw herself. Of what Shaw was hiding on the computer, and how morose Shaw seemed to be getting.

She wanted to reach out to Shaw, grab her and hold onto her in the dark, but she didn't think Shaw would appreciate the act, and Root was afraid it might push the shorter woman further into whatever darkness she was approaching. So she laid still, her eyes pressed shut, feeling the burn of tears behind her eyelids.

This wasn't how her homecoming was supposed to go. She was supposed to shower Shaw with kisses, and be shown unending affection in return. Root felt stupid for having expected such a scene. That wasn't her. And it _definitely_ wasn't Shaw.

The bed moved again.

Root thought for a second that Shaw had left again, but then the sheet and blanket shifted, and Root felt warm air on her back. Shaw put an arm around Root's waist from behind and scooted so that they were pressed together.

This was confusing but not unwelcome. Root wanted to say something and steeled herself for the reply.

"I don't get you. One minute you're kissing me and the next… it's like you're trying to punish me," she said. She felt Shaw stiffen as soon as she started to speak. Shaw's lips pressed against her shoulder.

"It's- I'm not…" Shaw paused. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Root took a shaky breath, frustrated.

"I'm good at a lot of things, but feelings aren't one of them. I'm not going to just magically start knowing how to do this," Shaw said quietly, kissing Root's shoulder again. Root felt bad for having said anything, because she knew Shaw was right. She was wrong to expect Shaw to be anything other than Shaw. Not only wrong, but foolish.

Root moved to put her hand under her head. When her hand found its way under the pillow, her fingers brushed against something hard and cool. At first she thought it was the knife. But when her fingers felt along the edges of the little piece of metal she realized that it was the medal from the number that Shaw had kept.

Root wrapped her fingers around the reminder that Shaw was trying to figure out how to listen to the whispers of feelings as they came to her.

"Sorry I woke you up," Shaw said quietly. Root shook her head.

"I was still awake," Root said. She felt Shaw's feet flexing.

"You should be sleeping," Shaw told her.

"I guess I have a lot on my mind," Root said, trying lamely to be playful. Shaw's lifted her arm from around Root's waist and stroked her head, fingers running across her scalp gently through her hair. Root immediately felt herself relax some.

"My dad would do this when I was little when I couldn't sleep," Shaw said. "Which was a lot. I used to have a lot of bad dreams. I don't think he knew that's why I was always waking him up in the middle of the night."

Root felt soothed by the action, but also by the sound of Shaw's voice. It was calm, soft, and imagining Sameen as a little kid with her dad sitting on the edge of her bed made her heart warm.

Root could already feel sleep coming, like standing on the beach when the tide was changing. Waves lapping at her feet.


	29. Chapter 29

Root wasn't surprised that Shaw wasn't in bed when she woke up. She didn't know how long she'd been asleep, but she could guess that it had been for many hours. She sat up in the dim light that was coming from the subway car and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her bare feet hitting the cold ground.

She heard the shower turn on and realized that she must have been woken up by Sameen closing the bathroom door.

Root stood up and ran her hands through her tangled hair, using the light from the subway car to make her way to the fusebox, flipping the switch for the rest of the station and squinting her eyes against the sudden bright light. As soon as the lights came on, Bear came trotting out of the car to greet her, circling her knees with his tongue hanging out of his mouth happily.

They walked back to the subway car together.

On one of the seats, the laptop was open and on. Root paused, looking at the screen from a distance. There was a document open on the screen, simple black text on a white page. Root couldn't be sure, but it looked like the same screen that Shaw had hidden so quickly the first time that Root had walked in when she was using the laptop. Root listened to the shower running, then looked at the dog, sitting beside her, entirely unperturbed.

"This is our little secret," Root told the dog. He stood up, his tail wagging, and she crouched beside the plastic chair, turning the laptop so that she could see the page better.

She looked at the clock on the computer. It was almost 10am. She couldn't believe she'd slept so long. It had to have been at least ten hours, if not longer.

Then she looked at the document and started to read:

_"I go to school with Walter," I began again. "He's your boy, ain't he? Ain't he, sir?"_

_Mr. Cunningham was moved to a faint nod. He did know me, after all._

_"He's in my grade," I said, "and he does right well. He's a good boy," I added, "a real nice boy. We brought him home for dinner one time. Maybe he told you about me, I beat him up one time but he was real nice about it. Tell him hey for me, won't you?"_

_Atticus had said it was the polite thing to talk to people about what they were interested in, not about what you were interested in. Mr. Cunningham displayed no interest in his son, so I tackled his entailment once more in a last-ditch effort to make him feel at home._

_"Entailments are bad," I was advising him, when I slowly awoke to the fact that I was addressing the entire aggregation. The men were all looking at me, some had their mouths half-open. Atticus had stopped poking at Jem: they were standing together beside Dill. Their attention amounted to fascination. Atticus's mouth, even, was half-open, an attitude he had once described as uncouth. Our eyes met and he shut it._

Root had figured out what she was reading before she looked at the name of the file.

It was _To Kill A Mockingbird_.

If the file was indeed what Shaw had been hiding, Sameen was reading the novel. And if the page that was open on the computer screen was any indication, Shaw appeared to be about halfway through the book.

Root recalled referencing the work days earlier, teasing Shaw about her relationship with Finch, like he was her father. Shaw had seemed irritated by the implication, and it had been clear that it wasn't because she found it inaccurate- it was annoying to her because she didn't understand it.

And now it appeared that she was reading the book.

The sudden wave of affection for Shaw took Root by surprise, and she pressed her lips together against a sad smile that wanted to form and bring with it the burn of tears.

She reacted so strongly because this spoke volumes about Shaw. She had not only listened to what Root had said, she was interested in the reference that had been made. Shaw liked learning and understanding things. She didn't like to iadmit/i that she was learning, but when she realized there was a hole in her mental database, she liked to find the information to fill that hole.

She wondered if she should bring up the book again, or if she should wait for Shaw to mention it. She couldn't be sure if this was, in fact, what Sameen had been trying to hide. And if it was, Root wanted to know why she thought she ishould/i hide it. Root pressed a hand to her mouth, pressing against her lips as she tried to imagine a reason for Shaw to conceal the classic novel.

Perhaps it was simply that she was embarrassed. It could have been that she didn't want Root to know that she cared enough about Root's thoughts to read an almost three hundred page book to better understand them. Or that she didn't want it to be obvious that it bothered her that Root knew something that Shaw didn't. But what if this was a cover-up for whatever she was _really_ doing on the computer?

Root opened the browser history and before she had looked at any of the links, changed her mind and shut it again. She didn't want to breach Shaw's privacy more than she already had. As she started to stand up, she changed her mind again and started to crouch down again, touching the track pad. The dog picked up on her anxiety and whined once, stepping towards her with a curious look on his face. She clenched her hands together and stood up, backing away from the computer. If Shaw was really doing something stupid, the Machine would find a way to let Root know. Root had to take her own advice: she had to have trust.

On the table, her cellphone buzzed. She went and picked it up. It was John, confirming that Evans and Tasha were ready to move out of the city whenever Root was.

Root looked over at the bathroom door. The water was still running. She imagined Shaw, water pouring over her perfectly brown skin, and found herself walking towards the closed door.

She wanted to see Sameen.

There was a strange urgency to it, a need to see the woman who had _To Kill A Mockingbird_ open on her computer. Like somehow she would be able to tell by looking at her if the book was really what she was hiding. And whether it was or wasn't, Root knew she would have to leave at some point today, and wanted as much time with Shaw as she could get before she had to go.

Root opened the bathroom door and a warm cloud of steam rolled out. Through the fog, she could see Sameen's back: the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the curve of her ass.

Root pulled her shirt off over her head. Shaw had her hands in her hair, and when the cold air from outside hit her she turned, alarmed, her hands falling into fists in front of her before she saw Root and dropped her hands entirely, her eyes closing with relief. Root shimmied out of her underwear and put them with her shirt on top of Shaw's workout clothes as far from the shower as possible. Shaw must have been up for a while, Root realized.

When Root looked back at Shaw, she found that Sameen's eyes were on her, large and dark. There was a tiny hint of a smile on Shaw's face as well, and Root smirked at her, stepping towards Shaw.

"I'm almost done, then I'll be out of your way," Shaw said, and despite being completely naked, her hands hanging at her sides, the shower running on the back of her shoulders, Root could see that she still had her guard up. Root slipped her hands onto Shaw's hips, looking down at her playfully.

"I don't want you out of my way," Root teased, tilting her head down to kiss Sameen. Shaw ducked her head away.

"You should still probably be careful with that arm. Besides, thought you had someplace you had to be," Shaw said, looking up at Root from under her lowered eyebrows. Anger burned in Root's stomach, bitter in her mouth, and she struck back, her voice still coy.

"Looks like Atticus still has quite a bit to teach you about manners," Root said, kissing Shaw's jaw since she'd turned her face away before. Shaw immediately jerked her head away to look at Root. This put her directly under the stream of the shower and she had to move so she could see.

Root knew that Shaw was wondering if Root had been on the laptop.

"I forgot you haven't read that book," Root said casually, as if nothing had happened. Shaw still looked suspicious, but when Root moved to kiss her, Shaw met her lips. When their mouths separated for a moment, Shaw hesitated, her eyes still focusing on Root.

"This is it, huh?" Sameen asked. Root ran her hands over Shaw's wet hair, her eyes questioning. "You're leaving after this, aren't you?"

Root chewed on her bottom lip, then nodded.

"They're ready whenever I am," she said, smiling tightly. Shaw's expression darkened into determination and anger.

Root was about to ask what was wrong when Sameen crushed her lips against Root's again with bruising force.


	30. Chapter 30

Hey guys! Thanks for all of the kind reviews and follows and favorites! I'm sorry about the extremely long delay on this chapter. I just found a way around a problem I've been having with uploading this chapter to the website. It was very very annoying, but half-solved now! I love reading your reviews, so if you feel like it, leave me a note. And if you'd like a soundtrack to your reading of this chapter, search "Caged Animals Ch30" on youtube- there's a playlist I made of songs I listened to while writing this. Enjoy!

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><p>Shaw pulled Root under the stream of the shower, her hands hard and tight on the taller woman's biceps, keeping the wounded arm out of the way of the water. Root had to break the kiss to take a breath, ducking her head so that the hot water was pelting her shoulders. She leaned into Shaw so she had to take a step back, and Root smiled when Shaw jumped at the sudden contact with the cold tiles on the wall.<p>

The old familiar uncertainty about the future bled into Root's skin with each drop that beat against her back. And with that uncertainty, there was anger. She was angry that they couldn't just stay together, safe and sound. And angry that the Machine couldn't find a way to give Shaw a new cover. And angry that if they _were_ truly free to be together, safe, above ground, Root didn't know if Shaw would still want to keep on doing what they were doing. Without the urgency and the necessity of trust, and without Shaw trapped like an alley cat forced indoors, Root doubted that the thing they had, whatever it was, would still work.

Root closed her teeth on Shaw's lip, hard, a reminder of the split lip Root had given her days earlier. Shaw only grabbed onto Root's biceps harder.

Root ran her hands over Shaw's chest to pinch her nipples hard, her teeth still clamped tight on Shaw's full bottom lip. Shaw inhaled sharply through her nose and let go of one of Root's arms to dig her nails into Root's ass, pulling her closer. Root released Shaw's lip and Shaw wasted no time, bending her head to kiss Root's neck, her tongue hot against the smooth skin, followed by the sharp pain of teeth closing on her flesh.

She trailed nips and kisses along Root's throat, and Root's head fell to the side with pleasure to give Shaw better access to the sensitive skin. Root's hand found the back of Shaw's neck, her fingers pressing into Shaw's scalp hard, then fisted in her hair when Shaw's hand on her ass slipped and shifted, pulling them closer again with desperation.

With her free hand, Root twisted Shaw's nipple and was rewarded with a shiver and Shaw withdrawing her head. It knocked back against the wall and Root tugged on the hair still gripped in her fist to get Shaw to look at her, wanting to see that the contact with the tile hadn't hurt the shorter woman. Shaw was completely unfazed, her eyes darkening as she licked her lower lip, tipping her chin up to kiss Root again. Root started to lean towards her but stopped just short of her open mouth, smirking and backing away again slightly when Shaw tried to close the distance between them and kiss her.

It was enjoyable to watch Shaw's jaw clench, anger and desire combining in her dark eyes, pupils huge and black. Root pretended she was going to kiss her again and when Shaw realized Root was going to pull away again, she reached out to tangle her fingers in Root's hair, her hand firm on the back of Root's skull, and pulled them together again.

Root let Shaw have her way for a minute, then pushed her back against the wall firmly, ignoring the throbbing pain radiating outward from her elbow as she broke away from Shaw's mouth and kissed across her jaw and down her throat, her hands sliding easily over Shaw's torso and kneading her breasts as she bent to kiss Shaw's shoulder. Shaw's hand moved down from Root's head to the back of her neck, but it tightened and her nails dug into Root's shoulder when Root let one hand drift lower, down Shaw's abdomen and then between Shaw's legs. She could feel Shaw trying to separate her legs to give her better access and she pushed her body against Shaw's to keep her from slipping on the wet tiles. Root lifted her head to smile at Shaw seductively, watching Shaw's chest already breathing deeper than usual.

Shaw moved to kiss her and Root met the kiss briefly, then pushed Shaw into the corner of the bathroom across from the shower head and sank to her knees in front of the shorter woman, smirking up at Shaw as she put her hands on Shaw's waist, kissing the dip beside her hip bone.

"You're not wasting any time, are you?" Shaw growled jokingly, needy through her breathlessness. Root grinned and raised her eyebrows as she kissed the dark hair between Shaw's legs and was rewarded with the sound of a shaky sigh. With a quick glance over her shoulder, Root directed Shaw to put one foot on the lid of the toilet, and was deliciously pleased when Shaw immediately complied, chewing on her bottom lip with the hint of a smirk that betrayed her arousal.

And Shaw was right- Root didn't want to wait another second.

Root relished the first taste of Shaw's body she'd had in days. They'd only slept together a handful of times, and already Root was familiar with the way that Shaw smelled and tasted. The way that she quivered when Root's tongue swirled just so. Root was pleased that she was getting to know Shaw's unconscious reactions. She enjoyed know that she could reliably make Shaw hiss an exhale by sucking the dark-haired woman's clitoris into her mouth.

When she pressed one of her slender fingers inside of Shaw, Root thought for a moment that the shorter woman was going to slip and fall. One of her hands found Root's shoulder to keep herself stable. Root kept close to Shaw, pinning her to the wall with her free hand as she moved inside of Shaw, her tongue keeping a steady rhythm.

Root added a second finger and curled them both as she thrust them deep. The hand that found Root's head was already desperate, Shaw's hips grinding against Root, nails harsh against the scalp of the woman kneeling between her legs.

It was almost impossible to take her time, but Root forced Shaw's hips to still, slowing her rhythm down until Shaw grunted in frustration, her muscles tightening on Root's fingers to try to force an orgasm that Root refused to let her have just yet. She wanted this moment to last. She wanted to remember the steamy shower, Shaw's whole body slick with water, her wet hair, the taste of her skin, still so distinct despite the smell of shampoo.

Root closed her eyes as she licked Shaw's body again. What if this was the last time they were together this way? This could be it. She could feel the searing pain of sadness at the thought of never being together again, and couldn't stand thinking about it. She pushed the thoughts aside and thrust harder, faster, deeper, giving Shaw what she wanted.

Shaw tried to mumble something, and Root wasn't sure if she stopped herself or was unable to continue. The hand on Root's head clenched hard on her skull, Shaw's pelvis jerked and ground hard into her, and Root could feel Sameen's muscles spasm on her fingers. Shaw slid a few inches down the wall and Root tried to catch her. When Root finally looked up at her, Shaw's eyes were screwed shut, just beginning to relax, her lip clamped hard between her straight white perfect teeth.

As soon as their eyes met, Shaw pushed Root away and sank to the floor in front of her, pushing her onto her back on the cold tiles so Root arched up suddenly. The air was sufficiently warmed by the shower, but since they weren't directly under the stream of water, the floor was still icy cold. Shaw's body was quick to move above Root's, slinking up her body to kiss her, shoving her back down against the tile floor, then kissing her way back down to Root's chest, biting each nipple in turn and sucking hard, hard enough that it was pleasurably painful. Enough that Root knew she would probably be sore the next day.

Shaw's hand went between Root's legs while her mouth was still kissing and nipping her chest. The demanding kisses and firm fingers rubbing circles against her already had Root aching for more contact with Shaw.

She didn't need to say anything- Shaw was just as eager, kissing down Root's stomach and then finally her tongue took the place of her fingers on Root's clitoris and two fingers pushed easily inside of Root's already wet body. Root writhed under Shaw's skilled motions.

But after a few minutes, Root thought again of the possibility that she and Evans might not make it back. She'd never worried much about staying alive before, but now she felt like every errand could end in a dire situation that she might not be able to get out of. And all of this because of Shaw. Because of the fear that Root wouldn't make it back to this perfect woman if things went pear-shaped. Pear-shaped. Even the use of that term to describe a mission that wasn't going well was only in Root's head because it was something Shaw liked to say.

Shaw's mouth was gone suddenly, and then Shaw kissed her. Root could taste herself on Shaw's tongue: sharp and bitter.

"What?" Shaw asked, leaning over Root to look directly into her eyes. Root thought about saying nothing was wrong but she knew Shaw would see through it.

"You _know_ what," Root said, trying to swallow her sadness. Shaw's eyes turned steely and she pushed her fingers back inside of Root, the heel of her hand pressing perfectly against Root's clitoris. Root's toes curled despite the slow burn of anxiety in her stomach. Shaw let her face hang close to Root's.

"As soon as Finch gets back, I'm coming to help you," Shaw said sternly. Root started to protest and Shaw kissed her to keep her from interrupting, withdrawing her fingers and pushing them back in, impossibly deep, pressing in just the right spot to make Root shudder under her. She broke the kiss and looked directly into Root's eyes again. "I _will_ come and find you. And once I do, _no one_ is going to get _close_ to hurting you."

Shaw's look asked Root for confirmation that she understood. Root kissed her, knowing that there was no way that Finch would let Shaw leave but also knowing there was no reason to tell Shaw that. Shaw's lips crushed Root's for a moment.

The pace of Shaw's fingers picked up and she broke the kiss to duck back down, her mouth finding its rhythm again between Root's legs.

It wasn't long before Root was trying to contain the high-pitched whimper as she orgasmed. She clutched at her own thigh to try not to grab Shaw's head and force it hard against her, and Shaw's hand grabbed onto the fingers digging harshly into her skin. It was as if Shaw had a sixth sense for knowing exactly what Root needed in these moments.

Shaw let Root lay limp on the bathroom floor for a minute, leaning over her and kissing her adoringly. Then Shaw urged her up.

"No telling how long the hot water is going to last," Shaw said by way of explanation as Root sat up lethargically. Root realized she was right and started to get up. Shaw helped her to her feet and hugged Root to her chest, pulling her under the stream of hot water. Root felt sleepy and didn't want to have to move, but when Shaw kissed her she smiled and let Shaw tip her head back to wet her hair.


End file.
